Joy Is a Nervous System Reset: Why Rest Isn’t Optional

Fenwick practicing mindfulness… Oregon coast style.

Oregon Coast Reset: A Windy Day of Mindfulness

Yesterday we packed up the dogs and drove over to the coast — my version of a reset button. It was windy as hell (par for the course), but that’s the charm of the Oregon coast: you never know if you’ll get sun, mist, or sideways rain, sometimes all three in an hour.

Newport, Nye Beach, agate hunting, whale watching, and layers stuffed in the car. The whole deal. Because that’s the only way to survive the coast.

Niko, our mini poodle, still full of energy, tore around chasing birds, fetching the ball, and splashing in the creek. Our little old man, Fenwick, with his short legs and Yoda ears, got carried down to the damp sand after the tide went out. Because no one needs sand in their eyes to ruin a good day.

Driving up to Depot Bay, we spotted clouds of mist from whale spouts, one close enough to catch in the waves. I love stopping at the Whale Watching Center, where they actually know the local residents by sight and keep count of the ones passing through. There’s something grounding about that kind of wild rhythm. The whales keep moving, season after season, whether we’re paying attention or not.

They’ve been here for around 50 million years, which makes our troubles feel a whole lot smaller in comparison.

Mindfulness Without Trying: Stress Relief in Everyday Life

The coast is one of the best examples of mindfulness without even trying. You don’t have to sit on a cushion and chant to “be present.”

One minute you’re squinting into the sun, the next you’re pulling your jacket tighter against the wind. Whales in the distance, sand blowing in your eyes, toes in the sand, the sound of waves drowning out every damn thought.

And here’s the part I love: it doesn’t feel forced. No app dinging at you to take three deep breaths. No pressure to “do mindfulness right.” You just show up, and nature takes over.

Cold, then warm. Wind that steals your hat. Your breath falling into the same rhythm as the waves. That’s mindfulness. Not perfect focus, not bliss. Just noticing what is.

When I talk about mindfulness in therapy, people think it means sitting still and emptying their minds. For most of us, especially highly sensitive people, that sounds impossible, impossible — and honestly, kind of awful. But this kind of mindfulness, the coast version, is different. It’s messy, real, and physical. You don’t have to try to be present; your body knows you’re here.

We even met a couple walking their happy doodle, beaming about how they’d sold their house and hit the road in one of those fancy Sprinter vans. I found myself just standing there, breathing it all in. No scrolling, no multitasking, no pretending I had to be productive. Just there.

And that’s the point

Exhaustion, Overload, and Burnout in HSPs

And honestly? That’s why I need days like this. Because this time in history is hard to stomach sometimes.

Every day it seems like there’s another mass shooting, or a news outlet or comedian getting muzzled or sued. Meanwhile, the so-called “racial left” (yep, that’s me) gets blamed for everything: ruining kids with pronouns and drag queens, causing “crime in the cities,” and of course being the official “cancel culture.”

It’s exhausting.

And if you’re a highly sensitive person, a perfectionist, or someone who actually gives a damn about other people, it can feel impossible to stay grounded. Your nervous system starts to live in fight-or-flight, bracing for the next headline.

You tell yourself to keep pushing, keep showing up, keep caring, but at some point your body simply says: hell no.

(And for trauma survivors, those patterns run even deeper. Exhaustion and guilt around rest aren’t just bad habits, they’re survival responses wired into the nervous system. I’ll be writing more about that soon.)

Why Rest Feels So Hard (Especially for Perfectionists & HSPs)

And I see it in therapy all the time. People think rest is indulgent. They feel guilty if they sit down, guilty if they take a day off, guilty if they don’t answer every text within ten minutes.

Perfectionists say they’ll rest after the work is done, but, as we all know — the work is never done.

Highly sensitive people tell me they should be able to “handle it better.” Caretakers say they don’t have time to stop because someone else always needs them more.

Here’s the truth: rest is medicine. Not a luxury. Not something you earn only when you’ve crossed off every box on your to-do list.

If you keep pushing yourself without rest, your body will eventually send you a message. Whether it’s through headaches, digestive issues, panic attacks, or snapping at people around you. Listen before it gets to that point.

It’s not weakness; it’s biology.

Sometimes I’ll ask clients, “What would it look like to stop for just ten minutes? What would it feel like to give yourself permission?”

For some, it’s sitting in the car before going inside. For others, it’s turning their phone to Do Not Disturb while they drink coffee in silence.

These moments don’t erase the chaos of the world, but they remind your nervous system that safety and joy still exist.

Self-Care Doesn’t Have to Be Big: Small Rest Practices That Work

We’re living in a time when the world feels like it’s unraveling. The news cycle alone is enough to fry anyone’s nervous system, and if you’re someone who feels everything deeply, it’s no wonder you’re running on fumes.

This is exactly where self-care gets misunderstood.

Self-care doesn’t have to mean booking a week in Hawaii or dropping money on a wellness retreat. Honestly, most of us don’t have the time or the budget for that, and even if we did, our nervous systems need smaller resets way more often.

Sometimes self-care is ten quiet minutes with your phone on silent. Sometimes it’s saying no to one more obligation. Sometimes it’s crawling under a blanket with bad TV and not apologizing for it.

Small acts of rest aren’t indulgent, they’re medicine. They’re how you build the capacity to keep going when the world feels unrelenting.

And in a culture that rewards burnout, choosing to care for yourself in small, consistent ways isn’t weakness. It’s survival.

Creating Self-Care Reset Rituals

I didn’t always give myself permission to do this. For years, I pushed through exhaustion, convinced I could outwork the stress if I just kept going. I’d cancel plans, skip rest, and tell myself I didn’t have time for joy, which usually meant I ended up sick, burned out, or staring at my ceiling at 3 a.m. wondering why I couldn’t get it together.

The truth is, it wasn’t about “not having time.” It was about not believing I was allowed.

Somewhere along the way, most of us are taught that resting means we’re lazy, selfish, or falling behind.

It takes unlearning to see that rest is actually what makes you human, and what lets you keep showing up when life is hard.

For me, the Oregon coast became my reset ritual. It’s close enough for a day trip, simple enough to not break the bank, and full of little joys: from yelling into the wind to buying salt water taffy at the shop that feels like “ours.” (We tried a new place on this trip — mistake. Blech. Back to our ritual shop in Newport Beach.)

It’s not just tradition; it’s a practice in remembering I don’t have to earn joy.

And that’s the point: your ritual doesn’t have to look like mine. What matters is finding a way — big or small — to remind yourself that you get to stop.

Rest and Joy as Rebellion: Healing for Highly Sensitive People

And here’s the other piece: rest and joy are not just personal choices. They’re acts of resistance.

If the world can keep you exhausted, burned out, and running on fumes, then you’re easier to control. You’re less likely to speak up, less likely to fight back, less likely to imagine something better.

Choosing to rest, to laugh, to take a damn day at the coast when everything feels like it’s falling apart — that’s not weakness. That’s rebellion.

It’s saying, you don’t get to take my humanity too.

I tell clients all the time: if they can burn you out, they win. But if you can pause, breathe, and remember what it feels like to be alive, even for a few minutes, you’re practicing the kind of resilience that oppressive systems can’t touch.

For me, it’s the coast. Nye Beach, Depot Bay, salt water taffy (from the right shop), watching the dogs lose their minds at the creek, and yelling into the wind just because I can.

That’s my reset ritual. Yours don’t have to look anything like mine. Maybe it’s a hike, or baking bread (I hear sour dough is quite popular these days), or simply sitting on the porch with your phone set to “emergency only.”

The point isn’t the activity. The point is giving your nervous system a break from the noise, letting yourself feel joy without guilt, and remembering that you’re more than headlines, more than productivity, more than someone else’s scapegoat.

So Take the Damn Break: Why Joy Is Not Optional

Pack a picnic, ignore your texts, find your own place to yell into the wind.

Joy is not optional. It’s what keeps you human.

Disclaimer: Reading this blog isn’t the same as therapy. If you’re struggling, please reach out to a licensed mental health professional — you don’t have to do this alone.