Finding Calm in the Chaos: How I’m Reclaiming Rest This Holiday Season
As a perfectionist in recovery, the holidays tend to trigger that familiar pressure—find the perfect gifts, make the perfect plans, create the perfect experience for everyone I love. But this year, there’s an added layer of stress: two people close to me are in the hospital, both with broken legs from unexpected accidents.
One of them is my developmentally delayed brother, Chris. He was hit by a car and is recovering from a broken leg and several other injuries. Two weeks later, he’s still unable to stand or walk, and still in the hospital. Chris had planned to come up from Baltimore to spend Christmas with us; now my holiday wish is simply that he move to a rehabilitation center soon. My husband and I are reworking our plans so we can bring the holiday spirit to him instead. I call Chris every day to offer love and encouragement, and I’m also fielding calls from his many concerned friends. All of it adds to what already feels like an emotionally heavy season.
So I reached for Rest Is Resistance, hoping for a little inspiration—maybe a few tools or tips. What I found was so much more.
The book reframes rest in ways I had never considered. The author, Tricia Hersey, explores how the relentless pace of modern life—rooted in capitalism and historical systems of oppression—has normalized exhaustion. And during the holidays, that culture of busyness intensifies. I mean, can you imagine admitting to someone that you’re having a restful holiday without expecting a raised eyebrow?
Hersey challenges the idea that our worth is tied to productivity or our ability to meet every demand. She offers a radical alternative: reclaiming rest as a birthright, especially when the world insists on constant motion.
This landed deeply with me as I listened to Chris, struggling to sit up, wanting only to know when he can return to work. My family is full of hard workers—my father, a neurologist, professor, researcher, husband, and father of five, set a powerful example of achievement… and an equally powerful example of what constant work can cost. As I listened to Chris, I had to ask myself honestly: would I react any differently? Would I be trying to rush back to my busy life, to tennis and work and productivity?
Inspired by Hersey’s teachings, I decided to create my own holiday manifesto—one rooted in caring for Chris while also finding a way to stay grounded, connected, and present. The book reminds us that rest isn’t indulgent. It’s restorative. It creates room for the values we claim to cherish most this time of year: connection, gratitude, and joy.
I want those things. I want a genuine connection with myself and the people I love. And that means I’m going to need to take more breaks—real ones. So I’m committing to experimenting with daily rest from now until December 31st. A month-long practice of slowing down, noticing, and allowing myself to breathe.
Here are the tiny habits I’m choosing to play with:
Tiny Rest Practices for the Holidays
Give myself permission not to call Chris every day. I’ll explain to him that I love him, will call often, and also need days to rest while others check in on him. This is also an opportunity to model self-care.
Sit quietly for 5–10 minutes during a hectic day.
Daydream for 5–10 minutes.
Walk slowly whenever possible.
Repeat to myself: “I am enough.”
Take a longer, silent shower.
Slow dance to slow music for a few minutes.
Move through my daily sun salutations more slowly, with deep breaths morning and night.
Take 20–30-minute naps on weekends.
Enjoy a warm bath for 20 minutes.
Resist responding to texts or emails immediately—especially the toxic or emotionally charged ones.
Take meditative walks in the woods.
Look for reasons to smile more.
Seek out laughter—read comics, share funny stories, make fun of myself and my situations.
Listen longer before speaking, and allow more silence.
Since I write in a daily journal, I’ll be paying attention to what shifts as I practice these habits. Hersey talks about rest as transformative, and I’m curious to see how it transforms me.
And I’m curious about you, too. How might rest change your holiday season?
Wishing you a happy, restorative, and deeply nourishing holiday ahead.