I am very good at calling rest a reward and then forgetting to give myself one. If the laundry is folded and the emails are answered, maybe I can sit down. The list has never actually ended.
Lately I have started choosing one ordinary thing and doing it slowly. A shower. A cup of tea. Ten pages of a book I am not trying to finish.
The discomfort is still there at first. It tells me I am falling behind, even when there is nowhere I need to be.
Rest is not a prize for being efficient. I am writing that down until I believe it.