S02 EP02 | Why Hustle is a Trauma Response (and What to Choose Instead)

Can't stop working? Feeling guilty when you rest? In this episode, Debs Thorpe reveals why constant hustle is often a flight trauma response, and shares what to choose instead. Learn the difference between survival doing and aligned action, discover active relaxation practices (including Debs' personal story of trail running back to wholeness), and understand why rest is revolutionary.

What You'll Learn:

• Why hustle is a flight trauma response (not ambition)
• What you're really running from when you can't stop
• The cost of constant doing: health, relationships, joy, wholeness
• Survival doing vs. aligned action: how to tell the difference
• Active relaxation: rest through rhythmic, embodied movement
• Debs' story: how trail running (without performance pressure) reconnected her with her body and childlike wonder
• Why rest is radical in hustle culture

Perfect for: Burned-out achievers, chronic doers, people who can't rest without guilt, anyone running on empty

Key Topics: burnout recovery, hustle culture, trauma responses, rest, active relaxation, nervous system regulation, flight response, work-life balance, self-care, trail running, embodiment, childlike curiosity

Practice This Week:

1. Notice when you're in survival doing vs. aligned action
2. Choose one form of rest (still or active)
3. Try active relaxation: walk, stretch, explore without goals
4. Journal: "What am I running from when I can't stop?"
5. Mantra: "I am enough without doing anything"

Key Quote: "Running became my place of discovery and adventure, not routine or regime. The second I made it about performance, I hated it."

Resources: Read Debs' full running story at debsthorpe.com/from-zero-to-ultramarathon-in-8-weeks | Free companion guide at whlinstitute.com

Transcript

Welcome back to the WholeHearted Living podcast. I'm Debs Thorpe.

Last week, we talked about wholeness, about the radical idea that you're not broken, you're just disconnected from the completeness that's been there all along.

And maybe as you listened, a part of you thought: "That sounds beautiful. But I don't have time to just 'be whole.' I have too much to do."

Or maybe you thought: "I can't slow down. If I stop, everything will fall apart."

Or maybe: "Rest is nice in theory, but I have goals. I have dreams. I have to keep pushing."

If any of that sounds familiar, this episode is for you.

Because today, we're going to talk about something that might be uncomfortable to hear:

Your hustle, your constant doing, your inability to rest, your need to always be productive, it's not ambition. It's not drive. It's not what's going to get you where you want to go.

It's a trauma response.

Now, before you close this episode or get defensive, I want you to know: I'm not judging you. I'm not saying you're wrong or broken or doing it wrong.

I'm saying this because I lived it. For years.

I hustled my way to success. I built an award-winning business. I was the person everyone came to. I was always doing, always achieving, always moving.

And I thought that was strength. I thought that was what success looked like.

Until my body said no. Until I burned out so completely that I couldn't get out of bed.

And in that forced stillness, I realised: I wasn't driven by passion. I was driven by survival.

I wasn't choosing to hustle. I was running from something I was too afraid to feel.

And maybe you are too.

So today, we're going to explore:

Why hustle is often a trauma response

What you're really running from when you can't stop

The difference between aligned action and survival doing

What to choose instead, including a very personal story about how I found my way back to my body

And how to begin the practice of sacred rest

This might challenge everything you've been taught about success. But I promise you, it might also set you free.

Let's begin.

Let's start by naming what we're swimming in: hustle culture.

You know the messages. You've heard them your whole life:

"Rise and grind"

"Sleep when you're dead"

"No days off"

"Work harder than everyone else"

"Success requires sacrifice"

"If you're not exhausted, you're not trying hard enough"

We live in a culture that glorifies busyness, celebrates overwork, and equates your worth with your productivity.

If you're not constantly doing, achieving, producing, you're lazy. You're unmotivated. You're not serious about your goals.

Rest is seen as weakness. Stillness is seen as stagnation. Slowing down is seen as falling behind.

And so we push. We grind. We hustle.

We wear our exhaustion like a badge of honour. We compete over who's busiest, who's most tired, who's sacrificing the most.

We've made a virtue out of self-destruction.

And here's why we buy into it: because hustle culture makes a promise.

It says: "If you just work hard enough, if you just push through, if you just sacrifice enough, you'll finally arrive. You'll finally be successful. You'll finally be enough."

It promises that on the other side of all this doing, all this striving, all this exhaustion, there's rest. There's peace. There's worthiness.

"Just a little bit more. Just this next goal. Just this next milestone. Then you can rest."

But here's the truth: that moment never comes.

Because hustle culture is built on a lie. The lie that you're not enough as you are. The lie that your worth is conditional. The lie that you have to earn the right to rest, to be, to exist.

And as long as you believe that lie, you'll keep hustling. You'll keep pushing. You'll keep running.

Because you're not running toward something. You're running from something.

I know this intimately.

For years, I was the epitome of hustle culture. I ran a thriving practice. I was helping people. I was successful by every external measure.

But I couldn't stop.

I would wake up at 5 AM, work until 10 PM. I'd skip meals. I'd cancel plans. I'd push through exhaustion, through illness, through every signal my body was sending me.

And I told myself: "This is what success looks like. This is what it takes. I'm building something important."

But the truth? The truth I couldn't admit?

I was terrified to stop.

Because if I stopped, I'd have to feel. I'd have to face the emptiness I was running from. I'd have to sit with the fear that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't actually enough without all the doing.

My hustle wasn't ambition. It was avoidance.

And it nearly killed me.

So let's talk about trauma responses, because this is key to understanding why we hustle.

When you experience trauma, and remember, trauma isn't just big events; it's anything that overwhelms your capacity to cope, your nervous system develops strategies to keep you safe.

We talked about the four main responses last week:

Fight: Aggression, control, pushing through

Flight: Anxiety, restlessness, constant doing

Freeze: Numbness, dissociation, shutdown

Fawn: People-pleasing, over-accommodating, losing yourself

Hustle is primarily a flight response.

It's your nervous system saying: "I don't feel safe. I need to keep moving. If I stop, something bad will happen."

So what are you running from when you hustle?

For most people, it's one or more of these:

1. The fear that you're not enough

Somewhere along the way, you learned that your worth is conditional. That you have to earn love, approval, belonging through achievement.

So you keep achieving. You keep doing. You keep proving.

Because if you stop, you're terrified you'll discover the truth: that without all the doing, you're not valuable.

2. The fear of feeling

When you're constantly busy, you don't have time to feel.

You don't have to feel:

The grief you've been avoiding

The anger you've been suppressing

The loneliness you've been running from

The emptiness you're afraid is at your core

The pain you don't think you can survive

Hustle is a very effective numbing strategy.

3. The fear of being controlled or trapped

For some people, especially those who experienced powerlessness in childhood, hustle is about maintaining control.

"If I'm always doing, always moving, always achieving, no one can control me. I'm in charge. I'm free."

But the irony is: you're not free. You're trapped by your own compulsion to keep moving.

4. The fear of scarcity

Maybe you grew up with financial insecurity. Maybe you experienced lack of money, of resources, of safety.

So now, you hustle because you're terrified of ever being in that position again.

"If I just work hard enough, if I just make enough, if I just achieve enough, I'll finally be safe."

But no amount of doing ever makes you feel safe, because the fear isn't rational. It's a nervous system response.

5. The fear of your own potential

This one might sound counterintuitive, but stay with me.

Sometimes we hustle to avoid our actual calling. We stay busy with things that don't really matter so we don't have to face the thing that does.

Because the thing that really matters? That's vulnerable. That's risky. That requires you to be seen.

So you stay busy with safe things. Important-sounding things. Things that keep you from having to step into your true power.

Here's what's happening physiologically:

When you're in a trauma response, when your nervous system is in survival mode, you're operating from your sympathetic nervous system. Your fight-or-flight system.

In this state:

Your body is flooded with stress hormones (cortisol, adrenaline)

Your heart rate is elevated

Your breathing is shallow

Your muscles are tense

Your digestion shuts down

Your immune system is suppressed

Your prefrontal cortex (the thinking, planning part of your brain) goes offline

You're literally in survival mode.

And when you're in survival mode, you cannot access:

Creativity

Connection

Intuition

Presence

Joy

Your true self

You cannot be whole while you're in survival.

And hustle keeps you in survival. Constantly.

So let's talk about what this constant doing, this inability to rest, this hustle, what it's actually costing you.

1. Your health

This is the big one. Chronic stress, which is what hustle creates, destroys your body.

It leads to:

Burnout

Adrenal fatigue

Autoimmune conditions

Digestive issues

Chronic pain

Insomnia

Anxiety and depression

Weakened immune system

Your body is not designed to be in survival mode 24/7. When you push it there, it breaks down.

I learned this the hard way. My burnout wasn't just emotional, it was physical. My body literally stopped functioning properly because I'd pushed it beyond its capacity for so long.

2. Your relationships

When you're constantly busy, constantly doing, you're not present.

You're physically there, but mentally you're somewhere else, thinking about the next task, the next goal, the next thing on your list.

And people feel that. Your partner feels it. Your children feel it. Your friends feel it.

They feel like they're not important enough to warrant your full presence.

And over time, those relationships erode. Because connection requires presence. And hustle steals your presence.

3. Your creativity and intuition

Creativity and intuition require space. They require stillness. They require the ability to listen to the quiet voice within.

But when you're constantly doing, constantly moving, constantly in your head, you can't hear that voice.

You lose access to your deepest wisdom, your most innovative ideas, your truest knowing.

You become a doing machine instead of a creative being.

4. Your joy

When was the last time you felt truly joyful? Not accomplished. Not relieved that something's done. But genuinely, spontaneously joyful?

Hustle steals joy. Because joy exists in the present moment. And hustle keeps you perpetually in the future, focused on the next thing, the next goal, the next achievement.

You miss your life while you're busy trying to build it.

5. Your wholeness

And ultimately, hustle costs you your wholeness.

Because wholeness requires integration. It requires you to be present with all of yourself; your body, your emotions, your needs, your truth.

But when you're constantly doing, you're fragmenting yourself. You're disconnecting from your body, numbing your emotions, ignoring your needs, avoiding your truth.

You cannot hustle your way to wholeness. Hustle is the opposite of wholeness.

Now, I want to be really clear about something: I'm not saying you shouldn't work. I'm not saying you shouldn't have goals or take action or build things.

What I'm saying is: there's a difference between aligned action and survival doing.

Let me break it down.

Survival Doing:

Driven by fear, anxiety, "not enough"

Feels compulsive, you can't stop

Leaves you depleted, exhausted, burned out

Disconnects you from your body and intuition

Comes from your head, from "should"

Never feels like enough

Keeps you in constant stress

You're running FROM something (fear, pain, inadequacy)

Aligned Action:

Driven by purpose, passion, authentic desire

Feels intentional, you're choosing it

Leaves you energised, even if tired

Keeps you connected to your body and intuition

Comes from your gut, from "yes"

Feels satisfying and meaningful

Includes natural rhythms of work and rest

You're moving TOWARD something (vision, values, growth)

Can you feel the difference?

One is survival. The other is choice.

One fragments you. The other integrates you.

One depletes you. The other sustains you.

So how do you know which one you're in?

Ask yourself these questions:

1. "Can I stop?"

If you tried to take a day off, a week off, could you? Or would you feel anxious, guilty, compelled to keep working?

If you can't stop, it's survival doing.

2. "Am I present while I'm doing this?"

Are you here, in your body, engaged with what you're doing? Or are you already thinking about the next thing?

If you're not present, it's survival doing.

3. "How does my body feel?"

Is your jaw clenched? Your shoulders tight? Your breath shallow? Are you ignoring hunger, fatigue, pain?

If your body is tense and you're overriding its signals, it's survival doing.

4. "What am I afraid will happen if I stop?"

If there's fear underneath the doing; fear of failure, fear of being seen as lazy, fear of not being enough, fear of feeling something you don't want to feel, it's survival doing.

5. "Does this align with my values and my vision?"

Or are you just busy? Are you doing things that look productive but don't actually move you toward what matters?

If you're busy but not purposeful, it's survival doing.

Here's the beautiful thing: once you can see the difference, you can start to choose.

You can start to notice when you're in survival doing and pause. Breathe. Ground yourself. Ask: "What would aligned action look like right now?"

Maybe it's the same action, but done from a different energy, from choice instead of compulsion, from presence instead of anxiety.

Or maybe it's a completely different action. Maybe it's rest. Maybe it's stillness. Maybe it's doing nothing at all.

The power is in the awareness. And then in the choice.

So if hustle is a trauma response, what's the alternative?

Sacred rest.

Now, I don't just mean sleep, though that's important. I mean the practice of intentionally creating space for being instead of doing.

Sacred rest is:

Stillness

Presence

Non-productivity

Allowing instead of forcing

Receiving instead of constantly giving

Being instead of doing

And for those of us who've been hustling for years, sacred rest feels terrifying. Because it means we have to face what we've been running from.

But it's also the only way back to wholeness.

In a culture that glorifies hustle, rest is a revolutionary act.

Rest says: "My worth is not tied to my productivity."  

Rest says: "I am enough as I am, without doing anything."  

Rest says: "I trust that I don't have to earn my right to exist."

Rest is an act of resistance against a culture that wants to extract every ounce of productivity from you.

Rest is an act of self-love in a world that tells you you're only valuable when you're producing.

Rest is how you remember your wholeness.

Because in rest, in stillness, in the space between doing

that's where you can finally hear yourself. That's where you can finally feel yourself. That's where you can finally come home.

So how do you actually do this? How do you start to choose rest when your entire nervous system is wired for hustle?

Start small. Start gentle.

You don't have to go from 100 miles per hour to complete stillness overnight. In fact, that would probably send your nervous system into panic.

Instead, practice doing less. Incrementally. Intentionally.

Here are some ways to begin:

1. Create "do nothing" windows

Start with just 10 minutes a day where you literally do nothing.

No phone

No book

No podcast

No productive activity

Just sit. Just be. Just breathe.

Your nervous system will probably freak out at first. That's okay. That's normal. Just notice it. Breathe through it. Stay.

2. Practice single-tasking

Stop multitasking. Do one thing at a time, with your full presence.

When you're eating, just eat. When you're walking, just walk. When you're with someone, just be with them.

This is rest for your nervous system, even while you're doing something.

3. Schedule rest like you schedule work

Put it in your calendar. Treat it as non-negotiable.

Rest is not something you do when everything else is done. Because everything else is never done.

Rest is something you choose, intentionally, as an act of self-care and self-worth.

4. Notice your "should" thoughts

When you find yourself thinking, "I should be doing something productive," pause.

Ask: "Says who? Who told me I should always be doing? What am I afraid will happen if I'm not?"

Challenge the belief that your worth is tied to your productivity.

5. Celebrate rest

When you rest, celebrate it. Acknowledge it. Thank yourself for it.

Say: "I'm choosing to rest. I'm choosing to honor my body. I'm choosing wholeness over hustle."

Make rest something you're proud of, not something you feel guilty about.

Now, I want to talk about something important: rest doesn't always mean lying down doing nothing.

For some people, especially those with trauma or anxiety, complete stillness can actually feel activating, not calming.

If you've been in survival mode for a long time, your nervous system might not know how to be still. Stillness might feel dangerous, like you're vulnerable, like something bad could happen.

And that's where active relaxation comes in.

What is Active Relaxation?

Active relaxation is rest that involves gentle, rhythmic, embodied movement or activity.

It's not about productivity or achievement. It's about soothing your nervous system through movement while still creating space for presence and being.

Active relaxation includes things like:

Walking in nature (not power walking for exercise, but slow, present walking)

Gentle yoga or stretching

Swimming or floating

Gardening (touching the earth, being with plants)

Dancing freely (not choreographed, just moving how your body wants to move)

Knitting, crocheting, or crafting (repetitive, rhythmic hand movements)

Playing with animals

Gentle rocking or swaying

Drumming or making music

Coloring or drawing (without pressure to create something "good")

Trail running or hiking (following your intuition, exploring)

The key is: these activities are rhythmic, embodied, and non-goal-oriented.

They're not about accomplishing something. They're about being present in your body while engaging in something that soothes your nervous system.

Here's the science: rhythmic, bilateral movement (movement that engages both sides of your body) helps regulate your nervous system.

It activates your parasympathetic nervous system—your rest-and-digest system—while giving your sympathetic system (your fight-or-flight system) something safe to do.

Think about it: when you're anxious or stressed, what do you naturally do?

Pace

Rock

Tap your fingers

Fidget

Your body is trying to regulate itself through movement.

Active relaxation harnesses that natural impulse and directs it toward activities that are genuinely soothing and restorative.

Now, here's the important distinction: active relaxation is not the same as "productive rest" or "optimising your downtime."

This isn't about:

Exercising to burn calories

Walking to hit your step count

Doing yoga to get more flexible

Crafting to sell things

Gardening to grow the perfect vegetables

Running to improve your pace

Those things might be fine, but they're not rest. They're still goal-oriented. They're still about doing, achieving, producing.

Active relaxation is about being present in your body, soothing your nervous system, and creating space for wholeness, while moving.

The question to ask yourself is: "Am I doing this to accomplish something, or am I doing this to be with myself?"

If it's the latter, it's rest.

I want to share something deeply personal with you, because I think it illustrates this idea of active relaxation, and reconnection with your body, in a really powerful way.

It was December 2022, and I was restless. Burned out. I'd spent years giving everything to my work, and while I'd achieved so much (built a thriving business, helped thousands of clients, created beautiful memories with my family) I felt like I was existing through my life rather than truly living it.

A part of me was missing.

I found myself looking through old photos from my Air Training Corps days as a teenager, all these images of physical challenges, of pushing myself, of that version of me who loved proving people wrong when they said I couldn't do something.

And I realised that little girl, Little Debbie, she needed some air.

She'd been suffocating under the pressure of adult life, under the weight of responsibility, under the constant doing and providing and keeping the machine turning.

So I made a decision. I decided to do a running challenge every month in 2023.

Now, here's the thing: I'm not a runner. I don't even exercise regularly. And I don't love the idea of training plans or running every day.

But I love the edge. I love showing up and seeing what I'm capable of. I love that feeling of being fully alive in my body.

So I signed up for events—10Ks, half marathons, and yes, ultramarathons. Distances over 26.2 miles.

And within eight weeks of starting, I completed my first 30-mile ultramarathon.

With basically no training.

Now, to some people, that sounds insane. And maybe it is. But here's what I discovered:

Running became my way back to my body. My way back to myself.

When I was running; feeling my feet hit the ground, feeling my breath, feeling my legs burning as I climbed hills, feeling the sheer joy of running full speed downhill and trusting my body to carry me, I was present.

I was fully, completely, utterly in my body in a way I hadn't been in years.

The survival patterns that had stripped me of that connection? They fell away when I ran.

But here's the crucial part, and this is why I'm sharing this story in this episode:

The second I tried to make running about performance, I hated it.

The moment I started checking my pace, trying to improve my time, measuring myself against standards, it stopped being rest. It stopped being reconnection.

It became another form of hustle. Another thing to achieve. Another way to prove I was enough.

And my body knew it. My nervous system knew it.

Running wasn't about performance for me. It was never about being fast or hitting certain times or becoming "a runner."

Running was about being with my body. About truly feeling every ounce of it again.

It was about connecting with Little Debbie- that fearless part of me who loves living at the edge of the known, who is naturally curious and passionate and alive.

And then I discovered trail running, and something magical happened.

There's something deeply childlike about taking a path through the woods, following your intuition, and seeing where it leads.

You come to a fork in the trail and you think, "Hmm, I wonder where that goes?" And you follow it. Not because you're trying to get somewhere. Not because you're tracking distance or pace.

But because you're curious. Because you're exploring. Because you're following the natural wonder and adventure that lives in you.

Running became my place of discovery and adventure, not routine or regime.

It wasn't about following a training plan or sticking to a schedule. It was about stepping into the woods and letting my body and my intuition guide me.

Some days I'd run fast because it felt good. Some days I'd walk because that's what my body wanted. Some days I'd stop completely to look at something beautiful or touch the bark of a tree or just breathe in the forest air.

There was a freedom in it. A playfulness. A return to something essential.

That natural childlike curiosity and wonder, that's what I'd lost in all the years of hustling. And running gave it back to me.

Whenever people ask me how I completed those events, especially with no training, it comes back to this:

I had spent so many years abandoning myself in the pursuit of moving forward. Completing these challenges was the highest form of self-love I could give myself.

I had learned all too well the cost of not following through on my own promises. And nothing was going to stop me from keeping this promise to myself.

This was about reconnecting with my body. About remembering what it felt like to be fully alive. About giving Little Debbie the air she desperately needed. About following my curiosity without agenda. About adventure without performance.

And here's what's beautiful: those running events became my path back to myself. And in turn, shet hat fearless, embodied, curious part of me, held my hand as I made decision after decision that required enormous courage.

Like the decision to close my company. Like the decision to start again. Move to Italy. Like all the hard things that came that year.

Actively reaching for and connecting with Little Debbie through running is what kept me able to keep doing the hard things in life.

And this is what I mean by active relaxation.

Running, for me, isn't exercise. It's not productivity. It's not about achieving anything.

It's rest. It's reconnection. It's coming home to my body. It's play. It's discovery. It's wonder.

It's rhythmic, embodied, present. It soothes my nervous system while giving my body something to do. It reconnects me with the childlike part of myself that loves adventure and curiosity.

And the moment I try to make it about performance? It stops working. Because then it's not rest anymore, it's hustle.

So whatever your form of active relaxation is, whether it's running like me, or walking, or dancing, or swimming, or gardening, keep it free from performance. Keep it playful. Keep it curious.

Don't measure it. Don't optimise it. Don't turn it into another thing you have to achieve.

Let it be what it is: a way back to your body. A way back to yourself. A way back to wonder. A way back to wholeness.

That's the practice. That's the path. That's the return.

So what form of active relaxation works for you?

Here's how to discover it:

1. Notice what naturally soothes you

What do you find yourself doing when you're stressed and you just need to calm down?

Do you want to walk? Move? Touch things? Create something with your hands? Explore?

Your body already knows what it needs. Listen to it.

2. Try different things

Experiment. Maybe walking in nature feels restful to you. Maybe it's swimming. Maybe it's gentle stretching or dancing in your living room. Maybe it's following trails and seeing where they lead.

There's no right answer. It's whatever helps your nervous system feel safe and soothed.

3. Remove the goal

Whatever you choose, release any attachment to outcome.

You're not walking to get somewhere or burn calories.  

You're not stretching to become more flexible.  

You're not creating art to make something beautiful.  

You're not running to hit a certain pace.

You're simply being with yourself, in your body, in this moment.

4. Notice how you feel after

True rest, whether still or active, should leave you feeling:

More present

More grounded

More connected to yourself

Calmer

More whole

Maybe even more playful or curious

If you feel depleted, anxious, or disconnected, it wasn't rest, it was another form of doing.

I want to give you explicit permission: if stillness doesn't feel restful to you, you don't have to force it.

If lying down doing nothing makes you anxious, that's okay. That's information.

It means your nervous system isn't ready for that yet. And that's not a failure. That's just where you are.

Start with active relaxation. Let your body move in ways that feel soothing. Build safety in your nervous system through gentle, rhythmic movement. Follow your curiosity. Explore. Play.

And over time, as your nervous system learns that it's safe to slow down, you might find that stillness becomes more accessible.

Or you might not. And that's okay too.

Rest looks different for everyone. Honor what your body needs.

Let's come back to the earth for a moment, because the earth has so much to teach us about rest and rhythm.

Nature doesn't hustle. Nature doesn't grind. Nature moves in cycles, cycles of activity and rest, growth and dormancy, expansion and contraction.

Trees don't apologise for going dormant in winter.  

Bears don't feel guilty for hibernating.  

The earth doesn't question whether it's "productive enough" when it's resting between growing seasons.

Nature understands something we've forgotten: rest is not the opposite of productivity. Rest is what makes productivity possible.

You cannot have spring without winter. You cannot have growth without rest. You cannot have harvest without fallow seasons.

The earth doesn't produce 24/7, 365 days a year. And neither should you.

In agriculture, farmers know that if you plant the same field year after year without rest, the soil becomes depleted. It loses its nutrients. Eventually, nothing will grow there.

So they practice crop rotation and fallow periods, times when the field is left unplanted, allowed to rest, allowed to regenerate.

And in that rest, the soil becomes rich again. It becomes fertile again. It becomes capable of supporting new growth.

You are like that field.

If you're constantly producing, constantly doing, constantly giving, you become depleted. You lose your vitality. Eventually, nothing can grow from you.

But when you rest? When you allow yourself fallow periods?

You regenerate. You become fertile again. You become capable of creating from a place of abundance instead of depletion.

Rest is not laziness. Rest is regeneration.

And here's what the earth teaches us about being rooted:

Trees don't grow 24 hours a day. They grow in spurts, periods of rapid growth followed by periods of consolidation and rest.

And the deeper their roots, the more they can weather storms, droughts, and challenges.

Your rest is your root system.

The more you rest, the deeper your roots grow. The more grounded you become. The more you can weather whatever life brings.

Hustle keeps you shallow-rooted, easily toppled by the first strong wind.

But rest? Rest deepens your roots. Rest connects you to the earth. Rest makes you unshakeable.

So here's what I invite you to practice this week:

1. Notice your hustle

Start by simply noticing when you're in survival doing vs. aligned action.

Use the questions from earlier:

Can I stop?

Am I present?

How does my body feel?

What am I afraid will happen if I stop?

Does this align with my values?

Just notice. No judgment. Just awareness.

2. Choose one form of rest

Pick one way you're going to practice rest this week:

A daily 10-minute "do nothing" window

One activity where you practice single-tasking

A scheduled rest period in your calendar

An active relaxation practice (walking, stretching, creating, running, exploring)

Choose one. Commit to it. Honor it.

3. Experiment with active relaxation

If stillness feels too activating, try one form of active relaxation this week:

Walk in nature without a destination

Follow a trail and see where it leads

Dance freely in your living room

Garden without worrying about the outcome

Swim or float

Create something with your hands without pressure

Remember: remove the goal. Remove the performance. Just be with your body and see what happens.

4. Journal with these prompts

Take some time to write:

"What am I really running from when I can't stop?"

"What do I believe will happen if I rest?"

"What would change in my life if I believed my worth wasn't tied to my productivity?"

"What does my body need from me right now?"

"What did I love to do as a child that felt like play, not work?"

"Where in my life am I following routine instead of curiosity?"

Let yourself write honestly. Let the truth emerge.

5. Practice the mantra

Throughout the week, when you notice yourself hustling, pause and say:

"I am enough without doing anything. My worth is not tied to my productivity. I choose rest. I choose wholeness. I choose curiosity over performance."

Say it even if you don't believe it yet. Say it as a practice. Say it as a return.

As you start to practice rest, you might feel:

Anxiety or guilt

Restlessness

The urge to "do something productive"

Emotions you've been avoiding

Physical discomfort as your body releases tension

Resistance to slowing down

Fear that everything will fall apart

All of this is normal. All of this is part of the process.

Your nervous system has been in survival mode for a long time. It's going to take time for it to learn that it's safe to rest.

Be patient with yourself. Be gentle. Keep practicing.

Rest is a skill. And like any skill, it takes practice.

And remember: rest doesn't have to look like stillness. If your body needs to move, let it move. If your spirit needs to explore, let it explore. If your inner child needs to play and follow curiosity, let that happen.

The key is presence, not performance. Connection, not achievement. Being, not doing.

Here's what I want you to know:

Resting is not giving up. Resting is not quitting. Resting is not failing.

Resting is the most courageous thing you can do in a culture that demands constant productivity.

Resting is saying: "I matter, even when I'm not producing. I'm valuable, even when I'm not achieving. I'm enough, just as I am."

And that? That's revolutionary.

You cannot achieve your way to worthiness.  

You cannot produce your way to peace.  

You cannot hustle your way to wholeness.

Wholeness requires you to stop. To be still. To rest. To play. To explore. To wonder.

Not because you've earned it. Not because everything's done. Not because you've finally achieved enough.

But because you're human. And humans need rest. It's not optional. It's essential.

And sometimes, humans need to move and play and explore. That's rest too. That's reconnection too. That's wholeness too.

So here's my invitation:

What if you stopped running from yourself and started running toward yourself?

What if you let yourself rest, really rest, not as a reward for productivity, but as an act of self-love?

What if you followed your curiosity without agenda? What if you explored without destination? What if you moved your body not to achieve something, but to feel something?

What if you trusted that you're enough, right now, without doing anything?

What if you chose wholeness over hustle?

What would change?

I think you'd discover something beautiful: the life you're hustling to build is waiting for you in the rest.

The creativity, the joy, the connection, the peace, the wholeness, the wonder, the aliveness, it's all there, in the stillness you've been avoiding. And it's also there in the playful movement, the curious exploration, the embodied presence.

You don't have to earn it. You just have to stop long enough to receive it. Or move slowly enough to feel it.

My Promise to You

When I was burned out, when I couldn't get out of bed, when I thought I'd lost myself completely, running brought me back.

Not running as performance. Not running as achievement. But running as reconnection. As play. As curiosity. As a way back to my body and to Little Debbie and to the wholeness that was waiting beneath all the hustle.

And I know, whatever your path back to yourself looks like, it's there waiting for you too.

Maybe it's running. Maybe it's walking. Maybe it's dancing or swimming or gardening or simply sitting still.

But whatever it is, it's not about doing it right. It's not about being good at it. It's not about performance.

It's about coming home. To your body. To this moment. To yourself.

In next week's episode, we're going to dive into the myth of brokenness, why you've been told you need fixing, and the truth about your inherent wholeness.

But for now, just rest. Just be. Just move if you need to move. Just explore if you need to explore. Just arrive.

And remember:

You are not a machine. You are a human being.  

You are not defined by your productivity. You are whole, just as you are.  

You don't have to hustle to be worthy. You already are.  

You don't have to perform to matter. You already do.

Welcome home to rest. Welcome home to play. Welcome home to curiosity. Welcome home to yourself.