Why the hell is relaxation so damn hard for me?

"Why can’t I relax even when I want to?"

Oh buddy, I get it.

When You Can’t Relax Even When You Want To

You finally have a free weekend — nothing urgent, no chores, no one needing anything from you — and you think:

Awesome! I’m going to enjoy this rest.

But somehow, you can’t.

You bounce your knee, scroll your phone for hours, feel that creeping dread or restlessness, and maybe by the end of it, you’re collapsed in bed hating that the whole weekend went by without enjoying any of it.

Sound familiar? Yeah. You are not alone here.

TLDR:

Ever sit down to relax and find yourself completely restless, guilty, or unable to settle — even when nothing’s wrong? Yeah… you’re not alone, and you’re not broken.

This post unpacks why relaxation can feel so damn hard, especially for those of us with trauma histories. We break it down into three common patterns:

• When rest was “penalized” in childhood,

• When stressed-out parents modeled constant overwhelm,

• When your nervous system learned that being on high alert was normal.

And most importantly — I’ll walk you through exactly what to do about it.You’ll learn how to gently work with your nervous system using awareness, your felt sense, and something called pendulation (spoiler: it’s not about forcing yourself to “just relax” — thank goodness).

If you’re stuck in this cycle of busyness, collapse, or guilt every time you try to rest… this one’s for you. ❤️

Prefer a deep dive in the podcast form? Listen below 👇

Why This Even Happens

First things first: let’s normalize this.

A lot of people have this experience even if they don’t realize it or talk about it. Part of what makes this question tricky is that we live in a culture that rewards your inability to relax. When productivity is treated like the only real measure of success, effort becomes a moral imperative.

So even asking the question “Why can’t I relax?” is huge.That self-awareness alone is a win — you’re already doing the work just by wondering why this happens for you.

Three Common Scenarios

Here’s how this tends to show up — three deeply human patterns I see all the time.

1️⃣ Rest Was Penalized in Childhood

For some of us, this comes straight from the family systems we grew up in, where rest wasn’t just discouraged — it was penalized — and not always in obvious ways.

Maybe you grew up in a family where the people who performed, the high achievers, got the most affection and praise.

There’s a sibling working hard, being super productive, getting the spotlight…Or maybe that was you.Or maybe you were the child who just wasn’t interested in performing at that same level, and it’s not like anyone outright punished you — but they kind of ignored you.

And your nervous system picked that up immediately:"Ah, okay. When I’m productive, I get love.When I slow down, I disappear."

It’s a very clear calculation your body made. And even the absence of affection, connection, or attunement is interpreted by a child’s nervous system as a penalty.

It’s not about everyone getting equal attention — it’s about that internal accounting your nervous system is doing behind the scenes:"What do I have to do to stay connected? To stay cared for? To stay safe?"

So then adult you sits on the couch, planning to finally relax, and your nervous system goes:"ALERT: stillness detected. Connection at risk. Mobilize. Do something — anything — or we lose the safety of others."

That old programming is still running. And here’s the thing — it doesn’t matter whether you consciously think, “I need to perform to be loved." This isn’t about explicit beliefs or what you intellectually understand. It’s about what your nervous system learned was true — and how it’s still operating today to protect you in exactly the way it learned how.

2️⃣ The Stressed-Out Parent Blueprint

Now maybe your childhood had less to do with praise for performance and more to do with how your parents modeled their own relationship to rest.

Maybe you had a parent who was constantly overwhelmed —the one who ran around like they were holding the entire household together with sheer willpower, who never stopped moving, who radiated stressed-out energy all the time. You know exactly what I mean: the parent who never took a breath, always multitasking, exhausted but unable to stop…a chicken with their head cut off.

So when they saw you resting? That triggered the hell out of them. You might remember those comments:

"Have you done your homework?"

"Why are you playing video games — there’s work to do!" "

Can’t you see how hard I work around here?!"

"It’s like I have to do everything in this house!"

That parent wasn’t operating from a calm, grounded place —they were running on their own dysregulated nervous system.

And even if you hated that about them, that doesn’t mean you escaped the programming.Their relationship to rest — their inability to tolerate stillness — became part of the atmosphere you grew up in.

So fast forward to adult you.You sit down to enjoy some stillness…and boom:

• restlessness

• guilt

• fidgeting

• shame — so much shame

• inability to focus

• your knee bouncing

• TV on but you can’t watch for more than a few seconds

• picking up your phone

• pacing

• uncomfortable in your own skin…or maybe you collapse completely, checked out.

  
  

And you may not realize it in the moment, but when you look back you can see:

Your nervous system got wired in a home where rest was suspicious.Where stillness was met with judgment, shame, and an atmosphere that said:"Why aren’t you helping?! Why aren’t you moving?! Why aren’t you productive?!"

Their inability to tolerate rest shaped the air you breathed growing up. So now as an adult, you sit down and suddenly feel:restlessness, guilt, fidgeting, shame.Your body collapses or won’t let you settle. Your nervous system got wired in a home where rest was suspicious.

3️⃣ “Stress Addiction” (but let’s be real, that’s a terrible name)

This last one is what people often casually label as “stress addiction” or “cortisol addiction” — but honestly? I hate those terms. They’re pathologizing and totally tone-deaf because what we’re actually talking about here is a beautifully adapted nervous system that learned stress is the norm.

For some of us, we didn’t just grow up with occasional stressful moments…Our nervous system learned that constant threat was the baseline condition of life.

That could be because of all sorts of things:

• abuse,

• hyper-religious upbringings,

• neglect,

• poverty,

• racism,

• bullying,

• or other ongoing cultural stressors.

  
  

Whatever the source, your body learned that stillness doesn’t feel safe — it feels like vulnerability. Like letting your guard down at exactly the wrong moment. And I love this metaphor from my transcript because it really paints the picture: It’s like your nervous system is a castle guarded by soldiers. And those soldiers have been told from day one:

"Listen, this castle is under constant threat.Even if it looks peaceful out there — trust me, the enemy is coming.Just because they’re out of sight doesn’t mean they’re out of reach.Every time we let our guard down, something bad happened. Always. Be. Ready."

So even if the actual threats are long gone today, your nervous system still has this loyal, terrified group of soldiers at the gates —watching for danger you can’t see,on high alert,anxious when things are quiet.

And when you say:"Let’s relax now."Those soldiers respond:

"Are you fucking kidding me?! We KNOW what happens when we relax! We KNOW what’s out there waiting for us."

In fact, it might almost feel safer for them to see an actual danger right now than to sit in quiet believing a threat could show up at any moment. No wonder relaxation feels so torturous!

And this is the key takeaway: It’s not because you’re “addicted to stress” —It’s because your body adapted beautifully to keep you safe in a high-threat environment.

What Do We Do About It?

Okay — so what now?

Because here’s the truth: This isn’t something that gets fixed by taking one deep breath, meditating for five minutes, or saying affirmations.

Your nervous system doesn’t respond to “shoulds.”It responds to experience.

So we have to gently teach it over time that relaxation = safe.

Step 1: Awareness

Before anything else: just notice.

When you sit down to relax — maybe it’s watching a show, reading a book, scrolling intentionally (instead of doomscrolling) — what’s actually happening in your body?

• Do you grab your phone the second there’s a pause?

• Do you start bouncing your knee?

• Do you feel antsy, buzzy, disconnected?

• Does your breath change?

• Does your neck tighten?

• Do your legs feel restless or your body feel like it’s buzzing?

This might honestly be the first time you’re really looking at your body’s experience of stress or danger with intention — and we don’t want to get overwhelmed by it. So we’re keeping this gentle: Simply try to notice the sensations, make a mental note of them, and then move on to the next thing. Not fixing, not changing, not analyzing — just becoming aware of how your body tells you it’s no longer feeling safe.

This is critical because we can’t communicate new programming back to the body if we don’t learn its language first. Awareness is the entry point: knowing when your nervous system has shifted out of safety so that you can respond compassionately.

Step 2: Find Cues of Safety + Tap Into the Felt Sense

In all of these scenarios, your nervous system is doing exactly what it learned to do — it feels like it’s lost connection with safety when you’re relaxing. It’s bracing for punishment, neglect, or impact. So what it really needs in that moment is an abundance of safety.

These are real-time cues that remind your body: “I’m okay right now.” And this is where tapping into your felt sense matters. This isn’t about thinking your way into feeling safe — this isn’t asking yourself, “Am I safe? Should I feel safe?” It’s about sensing directly:

"What feels okay, pleasant, or even neutral in my body right now?"

Because just like you used your senses to detect when your body didn’t feel safe, we’re now going to use those same senses to detect safety — not as an intellectual exercise, but as a felt experience.

Examples might include:

• The pressure and weight of your dog on your lap

• The warmth in your hands

• The steady rhythm of your breath

• The weight of your body supported by the couch

• The cool sensation of sipping cold water

• The sight of a tree outside your window

• The sound of a loved one’s voice

• The feeling of a soft blanket against your skin

  
  

If you’re feeling fairly steady, you might first look for internal cues of safety — sensations within your body that feel okay or even pleasant. But if your system is already a bit revved up, it may be easier at first to start with external cues of safety — things you can see, hear, touch, smell, or taste that help your nervous system orient toward something comforting and pleasant.

And keep in mind:If nothing feels good internally at first — that’s okay.This takes practice.The more you cultivate this awareness of your felt sense, the easier it becomes to find these cues of safety in real-time.

Step 3: Permission to Pivot (Pendulation)

Sometimes the thing you planned as relaxation — like sitting down to watch a show or read a book — just won’t work right now. And that’s okay. Instead of forcing it and trying to "power through" the discomfort (which honestly just trains your nervous system that stillness = feeling trapped), we give ourselves permission to pivot.

Maybe you get up and do the dishes or tidy something small.Maybe you walk outside for a few minutes or check a little task off your list.

But as you do this, you stay in touch with your felt sense:"What sensations are showing up now that I’ve changed activities?What feels grounding, steady, comforting right now?" This isn’t abandoning relaxation — it’s about building a new relationship with it.

And here’s the key nuance that came up in my riff: This isn’t a one-time pivot.This is a dynamic, ongoing process.

You’re going to play with it:

• You try a brief return to rest.

• Check in again.

• If the discomfort returns, explore another gentle, grounding activity.

• Then return again.

You’re pendulating — swinging gently between activity and stillness, always checking back in with your body’s felt sense. And that’s where the healing happens.Not by gritting your teeth and forcing stillness until it feels good — but by showing your body:

"Look, when stillness feels too much, I’ll help us shift.And when it feels safe again, we’ll come back."

This continual interplay between movement and stillness is how your nervous system learns:

"We can return to stillness safely.And when it’s too much, I know how to shift supportively."

Over time — and truly, I mean over time — your nervous system starts to re-couple relaxation and safety.

They can live together.And eventually… relaxation becomes safety.

The Healing Happens Here

Over time — and I do mean truly over time — your nervous system starts to re-couple relaxation and safety.

They can live together.And eventually… relaxation becomes safety.

If this feels hard — that’s okay. It’s not meant to be easy or instant.

The fact that you’re even beginning this work is incredible. Keep coming back to yourself.Stay curious about what feels safe in your body.Let this be a compassionate, ongoing exploration.

You’re learning a brand-new way of relating to stillness — and that matters.