RV

Why Do We Find It So Hard To Rest?

No, you are not imagining it. There was no newsletter from me last Sunday.

My calendar was full of birthday celebrations and visitors, so I tried to squeeze all the usual work commitments into one day rather than prioritising tasks accordingly. Then I got the lurgy. I hadn’t left any space in my diary for getting the lurgy!

Some call it white space. I call it breathing space. Space for life to happen when life stuff happens without warning.

Last week, I made a conscious decision to honour being unwell and rest rather than push through. That’s why the newsletter didn’t get written. But making that choice doesn’t mean it comes easily. I had the usual anxieties that sneak in when I tell myself I haven't done my job properly!

So this week I’ve been thinking about why I still have a tendancy to overplan and why it can feel uncomfortable to some of us to prioritise rest into our daily lives, or why it might not even occur to us to do so. Because it isn’t only the work commitments that fill our diaries that deplete us. Recreational activities, as enjoyable as they are, can make demands on our bodies and minds too.

After thirty-five years in education, I know how deeply the habit of keeping going can become ingrained. There is always more to do than there are hours in the day. Always someone who needs something from us. Always another job that can’t wait. 

It used to make me roll my eyes when leadership gurus outside the profession told us to prioritise. On the face of it, that seems like sound advice. I’d give them five minutes inside a real-life classroom, then ask them again about prioritisation.

You can plan your day carefully, but so much of teaching involves responding to the unpredictable. Someone is upset. Someone else has a spontaneous nosebleed. World War Three has gone off in the playground. The photocopier is out of ink AGAIN and it won't be replaced untill a week on Tuesday. The lesson you spent last night preparing needs to be postponed because there's a last-minute memo about the mobile library coming and your class's slot is in 10 minutes. (Postponed to when? Where is the white space in the timetable to allow for that?) Then there's that howling email to respond to from a parent who has begged you time and time again to let them know in advance of any changes so they can prepare their child to help them regulate their nervous system.  And its only 9.30am on a Monday morning.

After years of being on alert, resting doesn’t necessarily come easily. You can finally have time to rest and still find yourself restless, reaching for another job, feeling you ought to be doing something. Lord knows I've only just got used to the idea that I can actually go for a wee when I need one and don't have to wait til 4pm!

Even holidays aren’t entirely holidays.

You wander into a market abroad somewhere and spot something that would make a lovely classroom resource. You collect shells and pebbles on the beach because they’d be perfect for the next topic on the sea. You keep wrapping paper to cover books with. Old Christmas cards make brilliant bookmarks when you trim the edges with pinking shears, punch a hole in the bottom and put a bit of ribbon through. (No? Just me?)

Your body might be away from school, but part of your mind is still there.

I can still recognise that in myself, and I’ve been out of the profession for two years.

I wonder how many teachers recognise that too.

I’m curious how easily I can slip back into those familiar patterns, even now. Even with everything I’ve learned about mindfulness, wellbeing and emotional mastery.

Just because we recognise a pattern doesn’t mean we are immune to falling back into it again. The art lies in recognising it sooner, and taking the opportunity to respond differently.

This week, I’ve been noticing how uncomfortable I can feel when there is a gap to be filled. How easily rest becomes something I feel I have to justify. Even sitting for five minutes in the car earlier, waiting while my daughter nipped into a shop, I found myself restless and searching for something to do. 

I find myself wondering what all that keeping going asks of us and how difficult it can seem to know what to do about it. What happens to our hearts, minds and souls when we deny ourselves rest and recovery?

 What does it cost us? Our health? Our relationships? Our sense of joy and fulfilment? 

That’s why, on Wednesday 2nd December at 7pm, I’m holding amasterclass specifically for teachers who are feeling burned out, pushed out, or simply want out. It’s for teachers who are ready to explore what fulfilment, purpose and meaning could look like beyond their current situation, and how to find the courage to make changes without sacrificing themselves on the altar of burnout.

Why teachers? It's not just teachers who are vulnerable to burnout.

Because it’s my background. I know the profession from the inside. I understand how much of yourself you can give to it, and how hard it can be to recognise when the cost has become too high. I have a deep passion to help.

I left my career twice.

The first time, it wasn’t through choice. I had become so unwell due to chronic stress that functioning was increasingly difficult, both at work and in my private life.

The second time, I could see myself heading towards burnout again. By then, I knew enough to recognise the signs and make a different choice. It wasn’t an easy choice to make, but it was easier than watching myself disappear again. The important thing to me was to take action before I got too far down the rabbit hole of burnout.

What do I mean by burnout?

It’s a word that is used a lot. There are many interpretations. The definition I favour is, “Burnout is losing the ability to do the things you’re meant to do with joy.”

In the masterclass, I’ll share more of my story and my three-step approach to beginning to take back control of your life.

Find out more and how to register here.

I know not all my readers are teachers, but you may know someone who is and would benefit from this masterclass. Please feel free to share the invitation with them.

Whether or not this invitation speaks to you, perhaps there’s something to notice this week.

When you look at your calendar, where is the breathing space?

Is there room to rest before you reach the point where you have to?

I’m asking myself those questions too.

Making It Intentional

This week, notice what happens when you have a moment to rest. Do you settle into it, or feel you should be doing something? Before filling the gap, pause and ask: what do I need right now?

Your Next Step

If you’re a teacher who recognises yourself in this newsletter, join me on Wednesday 2nd December at 7pm to explore what could change and what your next chapter could be.

Book your place here.