Raspberry Iced M

As I continue to walk in integrity, there are certain old ways of thinking I have had to confront, challenge, and intentionally attempt to correct.

I said earlier this week that I took a break for a couple of weeks to rest.

And that really was true.

I had worn myself out during a two-week stent of overthinking and turning more to my feelings than the truth. I sat. For two weeks. In depression. In loneliness. In isolation. In offense.

I slept. I cried. A lot. I shut down.

But as the month of May came to a close, as a consequence for rotting, I recognized that the “break” I took might not have been a break at all. It might have been a coping mechanism used to avoid growth.

Avoidance.

That’s what makes this tricky. Both rest and avoidance can involve stepping back, being still, taking space, saying no, and pausing. From the outside, they appear identical. But internally, they’re different.

Real rest creates capacity. It steadies your mind. It resets your nervous system. It gives you what you need to return to your responsibilities with more clarity, presence, and stability.

Rest is intentional. It says, “I am stepping back so that I can return healthier.” It’s temporary and restorative.

Avoidance feels relieving in the moment.

But it doesn’t restore. It postpones. It says, “I am stepping back because I don’t want to face this.”

And usually, what we avoid doesn’t shrink while we’re gone. It waits. And often grows.

I can admit now that I have used avoidance more than rest.

Scrolling instead of reflecting. Sleeping excessively instead of processing. Distracting myself instead of dealing honestly with what was hurting me. Seeking comfort instead of pursuing healing.

And because avoidance is soothing in the moment, it can be easy to justify, even though it ultimately leaves us feeling more anxious, more behind, and more overwhelmed.

The easiest way for me to tell the difference now is the understanding that rest leaves me clearer. After true rest, I usually feel more grounded, more present, and more willing to engage with life.

Avoidance comes with resistance. Internal tension. A subtle dread. A knowing. A quiet awareness that I’m not actually resting – I’m just procrastinating.

Rest requires honesty, too. I used to think rest was simply about stopping, but now I think healthy rest requires discernment. I have to ask myself: Am I replenishing or hiding? Am I resetting so I can return stronger or am I hoping this problem disappears if I ignore it long enough?

The motives are different.

For me, now, rest looks practical. Sometimes it’s just going to bed earlier. Often it is praying or writing. Letting myself breathe without feeling guilty. Allowing my nervous system to settle.

And then returning to what needs my attention.

Rest is an act of responsibility. Avoidance is an attempt to shirk it.
Rest strengthens. Avoidance delays growth.

Learning those contrasts has changed how I care for myself. Sometimes I need to stop, breathe, and recover. But sometimes what I call rest is really fear asking for permission to hide. And having the ability, now, to correctly define the two is its own kind of peace.