You Don’t Have to Earn Rest as Rest isn’t a reward

 You don’t have to earn rest. I say that to myself more often now, because for years, I believed rest was something I had to deserve. I thought I needed to work harder, fix more, prove more, before I could stop and breathe.

When you’ve lived through narcissistic abuse, that belief runs deep. You’re conditioned to perform — to be useful, pleasing, productive — in exchange for temporary peace. Over time, this conditioning seeps into the nervous system. Even after leaving that environment, many of us still carry the fear of slowing down, as if rest itself might invite punishment.

But rest isn’t laziness — it’s restoration. It’s how the body repairs, integrates, and begins to feel safe again.

This blog, part of The Soojz Project’s Recovering Me series, explores the truth that rest is not a luxury but a necessity. I want to share what I’ve learned — that stillness is not something to be earned after suffering or achievement. It’s something we reclaim, moment by moment, breath by breath.

Healing isn’t about productivity; it’s about presence. And sometimes, the most radical act of self-trust is simply to stop.

The Trauma of Always Being “On”

Even after escaping manipulation, my body stayed alert — scanning for danger, waiting for disapproval that never came. I could be home alone, lights dim, soft music playing, yet I felt tense inside.

That’s the imprint of hypervigilance — the survival mode of someone who’s been chronically controlled or criticized. When you live under narcissistic influence, being still is rarely safe. You learn that calm can be followed by chaos, that rest can make you vulnerable.

Over time, the nervous system learns to equate stillness with danger. We stay “on” — performing, perfecting, managing — even in our solitude.

It took me months to understand that my body wasn’t broken; it was protecting me. The very tension I wanted to get rid of had once kept me alive.

True rest begins when we stop fighting that response. It starts when we whisper, “Thank you, body, for keeping me safe — but I don’t need that kind of safety anymore.”

That’s where recovery begins: not in forcing relaxation, but in earning back your body’s trust that rest is safe.  read more about  Why Socializing Can Be Exhausting: A Personal Story

Unlearning the Lie That Rest Must Be Earned

Narcissistic conditioning often implants a cruel belief: You are only valuable when you are useful.
It’s a lie that makes rest feel dangerous, and exhaustion feel normal.

Even after leaving that cycle, many of us repeat it internally. We hustle through recovery — reading every book, journaling every day, trying to “heal perfectly.” The old voice still whispers, “You haven’t done enough.”

I remember trying to meditate and feeling panic rise. The silence wasn’t peaceful; it was deafening. My nervous system didn’t yet trust stillness. My therapist once told me, “You’re not bad at resting — you’re just not used to safety yet.”

That changed everything. Rest isn’t something we earn. It’s a right that trauma temporarily takes away. Reclaiming it means unlearning guilt and redefining worth.

When you choose to stop performing — to sit with yourself without a reason — you’re dismantling the control that told you rest was forbidden. Every nap, every slow morning, every pause becomes a quiet rebellion against the system that once demanded your constant output.

How Narcissistic Trauma Affects the Nervous System

Understanding the biology behind exhaustion helps take away the shame. Narcissistic dynamics keep your nervous system in a chronic state of threat — toggling between fight, flight, freeze, or fawn.

In that state, adrenaline and cortisol flood the system while rest hormones like serotonin and melatonin are suppressed. This is why you might feel tired yet wired, unable to relax even when you want to.

The good news is: the body can relearn safety. Through Mind-Body Wellness, we can reintroduce signals of calm that remind your system it’s okay to rest again. Some gentle practices include:

• Grounding through touch: Place a hand on your heart or stomach and breathe deeply.

• Soft movement: Gentle stretching, walking, or even swaying to music.

• Sensory soothing: Warm tea, weighted blankets, candlelight, or calming sounds.

• Slow exhale breathing: Extending your out-breath activates the vagus nerve, signaling safety.

Rest isn’t idle — it’s a physiological repair process. Each slow moment tells your body, You’re no longer in danger.

Rest Without Permission — Taking Back Your Time

One of the hardest parts of recovery is learning that you don’t need anyone’s permission to rest.

For years, I waited for someone — a boss, a partner, a voice in my head — to say, “It’s okay to stop.” But healing meant realizing that voice had to come from me.

The first time I canceled plans just to rest, I felt guilty. The second time, I felt nervous. The third time, I felt peace. That’s progress.

To reclaim your rest:

• Treat rest like a boundary — not a reward.

• Replace “I should be doing” with “I deserve to be.”

• Notice guilt as an old reflex, not truth.

The mind may resist, but your body remembers what safety feels like. Every act of stillness is you reclaiming ownership of your life from those who drained it.

Rest as Resistance and Reclamation

Narcissistic abuse teaches us to overfunction. We become caretakers, fixers, performers — all to earn crumbs of approval. Rest disrupts that entire system.

When you rest unapologetically, you are declaring: I am no longer available for depletion. That is resistance.

Rest is how we break the trauma loop. It’s how we teach the body that survival isn’t the only mode available. It’s how we reclaim joy, softness, and time.

Every quiet morning, every nap, every breath is activism for your nervous system. You’re not being lazy — you’re rewriting history.

Key Notes to Remember

1. Rest is a human right, not a reward.

2. You don’t need to prove exhaustion to deserve peace.

3. Every pause is an act of reclaiming power.

Conclusion 

You don’t have to earn rest.
That truth might feel uncomfortable at first — like trying to breathe underwater — but with time, it becomes freedom.

Your worth was never tied to your productivity. It was never conditional on how much you gave, how well you pleased, or how quietly you endured. Those were survival strategies, not your essence.

As you recover, rest becomes sacred. It’s where the nervous system rebuilds, where the heart softens, and where the self finally feels safe enough to exist without explanation.

The Soojz Project was born from that belief — that our stories of exhaustion and renewal are shared. That integration isn’t about becoming perfect; it’s about becoming whole.

So today, if you do nothing but breathe, you’ve done enough.
If you rest, you are not falling behind — you are catching up to yourself.

And perhaps, that’s the most profound kind of progress there is.