Inviting rest in: Notes from a holidaying ADHD brain
One of the main challenges for ADHDers:
How to rest when your brain craves stimulation?
Introduction: When rest feels hard
I was lying on a massage table in Greece, warm oil being smoothed across my shoulders, ocean sounds humming through the walls. And yet, inside me, a quiet panic was building.
Why can’t I just relax already?
This was meant to be the moment. The culmination of months of work. The place where my nervous system would finally exhale. But instead, I was stuck in a familiar loop — the paradox of rest when you have ADHD.
If you’ve ever felt this pressure to relax and the simultaneous inability to, then you’re not alone.
For those of us with ADHD, rest isn’t just difficult. It can feel impossible.
And the harder we try to relax, the more elusive that peace becomes.
Why rest feels so hard with ADHD
Rest doesn’t feel safe to every brain
Here’s one of the hardest truths I’ve had to accept:
Rest isn’t natural for every brain — especially not an ADHD brain that’s been running in overdrive.
Our minds don’t coast. They leap, sprint, and scan.
So when we finally step away from structure — from work, demands, routines — it doesn’t feel like relief.
It feels like withdrawal. Like being dropped into stillness while your nervous system is still bracing for the next wave.
Stillness triggers discomfort, not peace
It’s like trying to shut off a car by yanking the keys mid-acceleration.
We don’t wind down — we crash. Or rebound. Or freeze.
Even when the scenery shifts — even when we’re on a beach, in a spa, at a peaceful retreat — the engine inside is still revving.
And unless we understand that, we’ll keep blaming ourselves for not “relaxing right.”
Rest is not a goal.
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Rest is not a goal. 〰️
Rest isn’t a switch you can flip
I used to think rest was immediate.
That the moment I stepped out of my email inbox, I’d suddenly feel calm. That a massage or a vacation would magically deliver restoration.
But rest, I’ve come to realize, isn’t a button you press.
Especially not for ADHD brains that have been operating in high gear for years.
We need something more gentle. More spacious. More forgiving.
The bridge between doing and being
This time, I did something differently.
Instead of diving straight into stillness, I gave myself a bridge phase: a few days in Athens before the deeper rest of island life.
Not to work. Not to plan.
Just to wander.
I strolled through ancient streets. I sipped thick coffee in alley cafés. I followed the hum of the city’s rhythm — still active, still alive, but softer.
It wasn’t rest in the traditional sense. But it wasn’t pressure either.
And that middle ground mattered.
It met my brain where it was — in motion — and gently introduced it to something slower. It gave my nervous system space to settle, instead of snapping.
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Letting go of the pressure to “rest well”
That massage table in Greece taught me something unexpected:
Rest can become a performance.
You paid for it. You planned it. You should be relaxed.
And that “should” becomes a weight. One more thing to do right.
But rest isn’t something you can force. It’s not a productivity outcome. It’s something you allow.
What helped me in that moment was releasing the image of what “proper rest” should look like.
Sometimes I tuned into the rhythm of the massage.
Sometimes I let my thoughts wander.
Sometimes I mentally left the room altogether.
Then I had an idea for a women’s ADHD retreat and indulged softly in that idea.
And every version was valid.
Redefining What Rest Looks Like
Let’s be honest: mainstream rest rarely fits our ADHD brains.
Stillness. Candles. Meditation.
They can feel hollow — even stressful — if your nervous system isn’t ready.
For ADHDers, rest might look like:
Repotting a plant while humming
Wandering a city with no destination
Journaling nonsense at 2pm
Reorganizing your suitcase just for fun
Standing barefoot on a balcony, breathing
These activities don’t look like rest, but they feel like relief.
They offer regulation, not sedation.
Sometimes, rest isn’t about stopping. It’s about softening.
Rest Invitations — Not Instructions
I honestly asked myself: Am I really a kind enough host? Would rest even like to linger in my presence? Putting a lot of pressure and coercion on a guest to visit me sounded pretty unattractive.
Instead of strict routines or rules, I started offering myself invitations — gentle questions that opened space without pressure.
Here are a few I come back to:
What’s a 10% slower version of what I’m doing now?
What texture or sensation would feel soothing right now?
What would feel like a kindness to my body today?
What if rest didn’t look restful, but felt like a deep exhale?
Could I let this be enough?
Let’s try out right now! Shall we?
Mini awareness practice: A gentle pause for your body
Look at each of the three images and be guided by the gentle invitations.
A Final Word: You’re Not Broken
If this resonates — the bouncing thoughts, the rest-guilt, the holiday that feels more exhausting than work — let this truth settle:
You are not broken.
You are not lazy.
You just have a brain that asks for a different kind of rhythm.
Your rest doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s.
It just needs to feel like coming home to yourself.
Let that be your permission slip.
Let that be your rhythm.
And let rest arrive as it wants to — not as you force it.
🌿 Ready to Rest Like You?
If this post resonated — if it made your shoulders drop a little, or your inner parts feel seen — know this: you’re not alone.
Un-think to Unfold is my upcoming ADHD course designed for women who are done with hacks and hustle — and ready to build a rhythm that honors their body, brain, and full self.
It’s neurodivergent-affirming, somatically rooted, and spacious enough for all of you to arrive.
Joining the waitlist grants you early access, pre-launch gifts, and first dibs when enrollment opens.
Let’s reimagine rest — not as a reward, but as a right.
Your rhythm starts here.
