Relaxing Makes My Skin Crawl

Not exactly something you’d expect someone to share, especially a someone who is such a big advocate for well-being and healing. But, it’s true. I hate relaxation. 

People like me aren’t curmudgeons or lazy, we aren’t even averse to the idea of relaxing itself. No, the problem comes in the execution. See, relaxation in our society is something that’s seen as being intrinsic, something that comes naturally to a person. I vividly remember sitting on the plush, sinking couch in my therapist’s office, trying to give up the compulsion to feign my comfort for his benefit when he said, “I think you need to practice relaxation,” to which I responded, “I don’t know how to relax.” The side of his mouth curled a bit and I remembering him rattling off suggestions of what he and others do to relax. All I can remember at the time was thinking, “This sounds awful.” 

Why should I waste my time trying to figure out why everyone sticks their asses in the air when the yoga instructor whispers downward dog? I can’t even bend that far forward without incapacitating something these days! Trying not to fart while bent that far forward is the best example of me living on a prayer that comes to mind. The worst part is that you’re supposed to breathe while doing it. I don’t know how to breathe; not without hyperventilating. Whatever I do, I have a tendency to do it the most and breathing is no exception to this rule. 

Let’s be honest, though – since I popped out this first child at twenty-three, nothing, and I mean nothing, has been the same. Why I thought I could walk into a yoga studio, sit down and get started without issue, I don’t know. The audacity! But, I started and it was awful. God awful. I sweated, I wobbled, I couldn’t do over half the poses - I couldn’t even steady my breath. In the end, my underwear, now showing through my plus-sized, guaranteed non-see through but definitely see through yoga pants were soaked with stinky sweat and sad defeat. So, I showed myself out and did only what I knew how to do. I grabbed some ice-cream to calm myself from the horror that was my first binge-relaxing episode. Too much relaxation, it turns out, puts one into a panic – the opposite of the intended goal. 

There are a few reasons people like me don’t know how to relax. The biggest one is childhood trauma. People who have sustained childhood trauma, even minor traumas, have a hard time letting their gaurd down. When survival is the only objective, everything else takes a back seat. A state of relaxation in a traumatic event is dangerous and even sometimes deadly. Hypervigilance is required to survive. Many who lived childhoods where hypervigilance became the new normal for their bodies do not know how to relax, nor do they want to. Relaxation to our minds means we aren’t on our toes, assessing potential threats, preparing for action. Relaxation doesn’t feel safe because we are conditioned to think our baseline of hypervigilance is the only safe place for us to exist. This way of thinking and these coping techniques at one point in our existence kept us alive. Now, once the threat to our survival is gone, the remaining hypervigilant baseline hinders our ability to thrive. 

Another reason many people don’t know how to relax is because they’ve become caretakers of some kind. Once my first son was born, I fell into the popular caretaker narrative of the ‘good mother’. The narrative of the good mother is the American story of martyrdom; sacrifice yourself so that the child may thrive. Sacrifice yourself so that those around you may live comfortably and bestow praise upon you in your quest for identity death. Congratulations, you are no longer an individual. Now, for all intents and purposes, you are ‘Momma’. Isn’t that a grand switch? Aren’t you grateful to go from being a human being to the meeter of all others’ needs? If you disagree with the narrative, you’ll typically be at the very least admonished, and potentially accused of hating or having disdain for your own children.

For eight years I held dutifully to my role, clinging to the notion that if I just do enough, do more, do everything, I’d feel fulfilled. The more I pretended I didn’t exist, that I didn’t have needs, the better mother I’d be. Most importantly, people needed to see the fulfillment of my efforts. I am a good mother. I am a good wife. I am a good person. Desperately I performed for the masses. Don’t you see me in all of my goodness? 

Not for many years after my second child was born that in therapy I found that I no longer had an identity, a ‘self’. Discussing my interests and hobbies, it dawned on me that many of them didn’t even resonate with me anymore because I hadn’t participated in them in years. Some of these so called ‘hobbies’ I hadn’t practiced in more than fifteen years. Digging deeper, it dawned on me that the values, interests, and hobbies I was listing off nonchalantly like I was reading a daily to-do list were things I’d resonated with but hadn’t engaged in since before my children were born. I no longer knew who ‘I’ was because ‘I’ didn’t live here anymore. Only the internalized expectations of being a good wife and good mother lived within me. Not only did I not know how to relax, I didn’t even know who I was. 

Fast forward to today – I’ve done and continue to do the work required to ease my mind and nervous system so that I may have a space to discover and explore relaxation. Relaxation, like anything else, requires practice. Practice, so that when we encounter difficult times, our body is already primed to know how to respond. Challenging our own discomfort is key to unlocking our healing. Learning to sit with discomfort and pausing with the triggering feelings to run, dissociate, or distract is vital to learning how to relax. 

The other necessity to learning to relax is to let go of others expectations. Let go of what our modern society views as a good wife, mother, or person, and access your own internal compass. Use your intuition to guide you back home to finding yourself. Above all else, remember you can always trust yourself to make the best decisions for you. 

Tips to support relaxation:

+ Give yourself grace. Be easy on yourself. You’re a human, just like the rest of us. Make room for mistakes and welcome them when they occur. 

+ Sit with your discomfort instead of running from it.

+ Keep trying in small chunks. Remember that it takes time to learn to become comfortable with anything new.

+ Start with something you know works and do it in short bursts.

+ Build flexibility in thinking. Remain open to abundance and possibilities.

+ Follow your intuition and reject external expectations that are out of alignment.

Actions to support relaxation:

+ Make a small daily promise to yourself to build trust between you and your spirit. Commit to something small, such as drinking a glass of water each morning to support overall health.

+ Balance your nervous system. Use practices such as breath work, yoga, or meditation to support vagus nerve balance. 

+ Move your body each day. Moving our bodies promotes a healthy body, mind, and spirit.

+ Spend at least ten minutes fully present in nature each day. 

+ Engage in gratitude practices daily to replenish your energy.

+ Meditate on your discomfort anytime it arises. Remind yourself that you’re safe and that all discomfort will pass.