Why I Believe Rest Is a Creative Act

Because not all growth is loud.

In a world that glorifies hustle, survival often looks like doing.

Productivity becomes a mask we wear to prove we’re okay.

And resting?

Resting feels like failure.

Especially when you’ve fought so hard just to keep going.

Especially when you’re used to being the strong one.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

Rest isn’t giving up.

Rest is remembering.

It’s where creativity returns—not in the rush, but in the pause.

What They Never Told Us About Healing

When I first started my healing journey, I thought I had to be busy to be brave.

I kept painting, posting, pushing forward—until I burned out in the name of “purpose.”

But healing doesn’t live in constant motion.

It lives in the quiet spaces between.

In the long exhale.

In the unwashed paintbrush.

In the moment you stare out the window, not looking for anything in particular.

That’s where growth starts whispering again.

Because you are not a machine.

You’re a garden.

And gardens grow in silence, too.

The Winter Between Blooming

There’s a season in Wonderland where everything goes still.

Where the Mad Hatter stops pouring tea and the Cheshire Cat fades into the trees.

It’s not a disappearance—it’s a becoming.

Just because you’re not producing doesn’t mean you’re not creating.

Rest is where ideas root.

It’s where trauma untangles.

It’s where your nervous system rewrites its rhythm, and your imagination breathes again.

Rest is not the opposite of creativity.

Rest is creativity’s cocoon.

And for survivors, especially, rest is radical.

It says:

“I no longer owe anyone my urgency.

I no longer perform pain to be seen.”

You get to be whole in your stillness.

A Soft Rebellion

If you’re tired right now, I want you to know:

You’re allowed to rest without needing to earn it.

I personally have to keep reminding myself “You don’t need to turn your healing into content.”

You don’t need to paint through the exhaustion just to prove you’re still “doing the work.”

Sometimes the most creative thing you can do is let yourself be held by your own gentleness.

Sometimes your body knows the art before your hands do.

An Invitation to Pause

This week, I invite you to reclaim rest as part of your creative ritual.

Light a candle. Run a bath. Put on some relaxing music.

Close your journal or sketchbook.

Let yourself be unfinished and unbothered.

Because even in rest, you are becoming.

And Wonderland will wait for you.