Had a full day off between shifts this week and told myself I was just going to rest, no errands, no plans.
By noon I had a list going anyway — reply to the messages about the dresser I’m selling, sort through the closet since I’m trying to get down to fewer boxes before the move, figure out if the desk lamp goes in the donate pile too.
None of that is resting. It’s just moving the work around so it looks like a day off while I’m still doing the same mental math I do every other day.
Same thing happens when I think about going somewhere for even a weekend. Before I can actually want to go, I’m already building out the whole thing in my head — what it costs, what I’d pack, what I’d be behind on when I get back, whether the trip is even worth the planning it takes.
So I either don’t go, or I go and spend half of it checking messages about the listings anyway because I never fully stepped away from the list to begin with.
My body comes back from a weekend away feeling like it never left.
Somewhere along the way rest turned into another category on a to-do list instead of something that just happens on its own, and I don’t really know when that started.