Rest Before You Break

(button clicking) (gentle music) Headspace Studios. (soothing music) Hi, and welcome to Radio Headspace. I'm Dora. A few years ago, I hit a stretch where everything in my life was a lot, not in a dramatic crisis sort of way, just in the steady accumulating weight of life sort of way. I was working long hours, supporting people I loved through hard things, managing my own stuff behind the scenes. And on paper, I was handling it. I was just making it work. People would say, "I don't know how you do it all." And I'd smile and joke, "I don't know either." But inside, I was tired. Not collapse on the floor tired, but more like bone tired, the kind that creeps in slowly and makes you forget what it feels like not to be running on fumes. Then one Friday night, I had plans, just dinner with friends, something I normally loved. But around 5:00 p.m., I felt this wave of resistance. I didn't wanna get dressed, I didn't wanna walk, and I didn't wanna put on my I'm good face. I just wanted stillness. And for the first time, I did something different. I canceled, not because I was sick, not because of a work emergency, just because I was tired. And then I waited for the guilt to kick in, for the voice in my head to say, "You flaked, you're lazy, you're being selfish." But that voice didn't come. What came instead was relief. It was like my nervous system exhaled, like my whole self said, "Thank you." And that night, I didn't do anything impressive. I ordered takeout, watched an old movie, and went to bed early. But it might've been one of the bravest things I've done. Again, not because it was hard, but because it was different for me. And we've been taught that rest is something you earn after the work is done, after everyone else is taken care of, after you've earned your keep. But real courage isn't about saying yes when it's hard. Sometimes it's about saying stop even when no one else is stopping. And the most sustainable kind of bravery, the kind that lasts, it's the kind that includes you. So this reminds me of a zen teaching I come back to often. A student visits a master, eager to learn. The student talks and talks full of ideas, full of questions, and full of ambition. The master pours tea, filling the student's cup, and then keeps pouring. The tea spills over the sides, onto the table and onto the floor. "Stop," the student says, "The cup is full. It can't hold anymore." And the master says, "Exactly, you are like this cup. So full of doing, of thinking, of striving, that nothing more can come in. If you want to learn, you must first empty your cup." And that image has stayed with me because I think most of us are walking around like overfilled teacups, leaking...