sincerely swaim

Rest is often illusive for me.

Each summer, I sprint towards relaxation while simultaneously shoving myself away in an internal dispute over ‘taking it easy.’

I feel I need to work for it.

As if rest is an earned prize that can only be redeemed in the evening hours of a productive day.

At times, my mind tells rest to taunt me and whispers, “catch me if you can.”

It’s frequently masked in the mumblings of others, “you should just enjoy it.” “It’d be easy for me to do nothing.”

And a personal favorite, “I would love to have a month off of work.”

Still, even in its allure, rest eludes me most times.

Experiencing it is a tricky cycle. A delicate ecosystem.

I want it. Feel guilty for having to work for it. And feel worse for indulging in it.

But sometimes, with genuine effort and gallons of grace, it becomes easy. I can find purpose in it. I feel safe.

Even if the easy only lasts for mere minutes at a time, I celebrate.

Because rest found me, and I let myself get caught in it while I can.