Why Do We Ask for Permission to Rest?
Why Do We Ask for Permission to Rest?
Last week, I had the honor of speaking at the Women Trial Lawyers Leadership Summit hosted by the Women Trial Lawyers Caucus of the American Association for Justice.
The theme of my talk was “Rest, Resistance, and Renewal: Wellness for Women Trial Lawyers.”
During the talk, I encouraged the attendees to listen to their bodies and stop waiting for permission to rest. And something beautiful happened.
Afterward, women came up to me and said:
“I went back to my room and napped.”
“I skipped the cocktail hour.”
“I took a break.”
“I did something just for me.”
They did not ask anyone. They simply chose.
And then came the twist.
That same night, after giving the talk, I found myself debating whether to go out and socialize or go to bed early.
My nervous system was depleted.
Even when a presentation goes beautifully, it is still a stressful event. There is anticipatory anxiety beforehand. There is activation while speaking. There is the vulnerability of being seen. There is a surge of adrenaline. And then there is the drop.
My body felt that drop. I was physiologically spent. My system had mobilized, performed, and connected, and now it needed recovery.
But I still felt the pull to socialize. To show up. To be available.
A friend gently reminded me that I had just told a roomful of women it was okay to choose rest.
Nevertheless, I needed permission.
We are deeply conditioned, especially as women, to override our own signals. We are caregivers. High achievers. Helpers. Advocates. We anticipate everyone else’s needs before our own.
So when our bodies whisper, “I’m tired,” we negotiate.
When they say, “I need quiet,” we push through.
When they ask for space, we call it selfish.
Why do we ask for permission to rest? Why do we treat rest as something that must be justified, earned, or explained?
Rest is not indulgence. It is maintenance. It is a strategy. It is nervous system care. It is sustainability.
If we never complete the stress cycle, if we never allow our bodies to move from activation into recovery, burnout is not surprising. It is inevitable.
That day at the conference, my system had mobilized to do something meaningful. It carried anxiety, the responsibility, the connection. Afterward, it needed to be downshifted. My instinct was to override it.
That is why I care so deeply about nervous system care.
Understanding your nervous system changes everything. It gives you language for what your body is doing. It gives you tools to regulate. It gives you awareness so you can respond rather than override. It allows you to build a sustainable way of doing work that matters.
Now, take a moment to pause.
Notice what your body is asking for right now.
More sleep.
Less stimulation.
A boundary.
A walk.
Silence.
Help.
Whatever it is, do not negotiate with it.
Do not justify it.
Do not wait for someone else to approve it.
Do not earn it.
Honor it.
You do not need permission to rest.
You need practice listening.
And listening to your body is a quiet, powerful act of resistance.