Why do I feel uncomfortable when things are peaceful?

You had a quiet weekend. Bills are paid. Your relationship is steady. Everything is fine. You feel content at work. So why are your shoulders pinned to your ears and your gut doing the twist like you’re watching The Grudge? 

When you grow up in unpredictable environments, quiet isn't relaxation- it's the eerie silence right before an artillery shell hits. The slam of a car door and the footsteps climbing the stairs left you confused, unsure whether you would be screamed at, ignored, or praised as the best thing since sliced bread. 

I know some of you can resonate with jumping off the couch to start vacuuming or scrubbing the dishes because, God forbid, if someone saw you relaxing. 

Your nervous system learned that letting your guard down gets you blindsided. To your body, stillness feels like a trap. So it manufactures drama, picks an argument, or obsesses over an imaginary catastrophe just to get back to familiar chaos. You’re probably the type of person who would love to sit down and read a book, but the moment you stop, your good girl has you up mopping the walls. Some of you, in a twisted way, love that identity, “I haven’t sat down all day”, signalling to people you’re worthy because you work hard.

The last thing I’d get my clients to do is meditate. That’s gonna make you feel even worse because you don’t actually have the capacity for the discomfort stillness brings. You start by titrating stillness- teaching your nervous system, drip by drip, that calm is not a death sentence. A 2-minute tea break whilst you look out the window. Try and sit on the train without doing work on your phone. Reading a chapter of your book after eating lunch so you take the hour you’re entitled to. 

Eventually, by building your capacity for rest and stillness, you will be able to meditate, whether in the traditional way or in another way.

This is what I teach clients to do. Find out more here.