REsted...and still struggling

We’re often told that rest is the answer. That if we slow down, take a break, unplug, or finally give ourselves permission to pause, we’ll come back refreshed, energized, and ready to jump back in. But what happens when that’s not the case? What happens when you rest…really rest and, instead of motivation, you’re met with heaviness, resistance, or a sense of being stuck? That’s the space I found myself in recently.

​I just returned from a wonderful vacation in Cancún with my husband. I had never been before, and don’t think we had ever taken a vacation quite like this. Adults only. All inclusive. No scheduled excursions. Just all-you-can-eat food and endless beach and pool time. It was everything I hoped it would be…restful, joyful, disconnected in the best possible way. I laughed. I slowed down. I didn’t rush.

And then I came home. 
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Instead of diving back into reality, feeling renewed, I spent an entire day binge-watching season four of Emily in Paris. I couldn’t bring myself to open my laptop. I felt overwhelmed by everything waiting for me on the other side of rest. And almost immediately, the guilt crept in. Why can’t I just start again? I rested…Shouldn’t I feel better? For a moment, it felt like failure.
The more I sat with it, though, the more I realized something important. This didn’t feel like failure. It felt like being in between. And maybe that’s the part we don’t talk about enough…the space between rest and restart. The transition. The quiet, uncomfortable middle where things haven’t snapped back into place yet. Transitions don’t come with clear instructions. They don’t announce themselves neatly. They often feel foggy, emotional, and disorienting. Nothing was “wrong.”Something was changing.

When we’ve been running on adrenaline for a long time…pushing, producing, showing up…rest removes the noise. And when the noise quiets, everything we’ve been carrying finally shows up.

The to-do lists.
The expectations.
The pressure we didn’t have time to feel before.

Rest doesn’t always refuel us immediately. Sometimes, it reveals us. That resistance after rest isn’t laziness or lack of passion. It’s often a nervous system recalibrating and adjusting after being in go-mode for too long.
That day I spent binge-watching TV? I judged myself hard for it at first. But looking back, I don’t think it was laziness at all. I think my brain was craving the safety I felt floating in the lazy river in Cancun. Predictability. Zero decisions. No demands. And that’s allowed. 
Often, as teachers, we tend to think that a holiday break and a turn of the calendar year mean a big restart. Lofty goals. A dramatic comeback to the classroom. But what we actually need is a tiny re-entry. A 5% restart.

A 5% restart is not:

• catching up on all the things
• answering every email
• being “back” with lofty new ideas and lesson plans

A 5% restart can look like:

• opening the lesson plans and proceeding “as is”
• responding to one email
• clearing one surface
• setting a 10-minute timer and stopping when it ends
• making a list without acting on it
• doing something familiar and grounding

Right now, my 5% is simply writing this blog and being okay with it not being perfect. Opening my lesson for Monday and nothing more. And that’s enough. Coming back “truer” doesn’t mean coming back slower forever. It means not returning to the exact pace or pressure that led to exhaustion in the first place.

Coming back truer might look like:

• saying no more quickly
• choosing fewer priorities
• letting some things wait
• redefining what “enough” looks like
• protecting space instead of filling it

Rest isn’t a pause button. It’s an edit. If you’ve rested and still feel stuck, please hear this:
You’re not broken.
You’re not behind.
You’re not failing.
You’re transitioning.

And transitions are allowed to be slow, quiet, and uncertain.
You don’t have to come back strong.
You don’t have to come back loud.
You just have to come back honest.
Even that can happen gently.

Wishing you all a wonderful start to 2026, exactly as you are.