Where do you feel emotionally at rest?
Coming out of the pandemic lockdown, I was moving through a few major life transitions that made showing up as my most grounded, present self feel out of reach.
At the time, I was also beginning to lean heavily into volunteering at a community theatre nearby—something I’ve written about before. The major reason I kept returning to the theatre, despite knowing few people and not really knowing what I was doing, was simple: I never felt like I had to perform when I was there. That was enough to keep me coming back.
There’s a natural joke here. I work backstage at the theatre, so of course I don’t have to perform. But as we all know, performance has other definitions. Socially, it means masking emotions and pretending—to be happy, laid-back, cool, or whatever else.
Performance is burdensome. And it’s required of all of us at some point and in some places, even among people we love. It’s rare and special to find spaces where you can show up exactly as you are, even when you have nothing extra to give. At the theatre, people simply accepted me and were grateful I was helping out. Being there felt like letting out the deepest, most satisfying sigh.
This is what I thought about when I saw the results of our latest poll on rest. Fifty-five percent of our audience says that right now, they require emotional rest above all else—the opportunity for a similarly cathartic release.
If only there were likeminded community theatres in all of your cities and towns. Maybe in a parallel universe there are.
For now, we can focus on other, less location-dependent opportunities for emotional rest. Here’s what I recommend for achieving such zen:
Forge quiet or no-expectation zones
If you’ve ever explored literature on the male gaze, you might be familiar with this concept: "You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur." This Margaret Atwood quote highlights how women not only feel watched by men at all times, but also internalize that gaze, monitoring our own behavior to seem more palatable.
This constant self-surveillance is its own form of emotional labor—and stepping away from it is part of what makes emotional rest so necessary.
One way to lessen self-surveillance and monitoring? Practice creating no-expectation zones, protected by boundaries that help remove external and internal pressures. For instance, while I occasionally work from bed, I never sleep with my laptop in my bedroom. This protects that space for true rest. I also don’t call things I enjoy “guilty” pleasures or label crying as “ugly” crying—so when I watch my favorite comfort movie in the living room, that experience is shielded from judgment, too. Control the narrative for yourself.
Embrace non-performative friendships
For many, friendship has become activity-based, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Meeting for coffee, dinner, or a night out can be energizing. But never underestimate the power of friendships centered on life—running errands together, chatting while folding laundry, or being in the same space doing different things. These everyday activities reinforce normalcy and the impact of (sometimes literal) mess, making it easier to build relationships on realness. No performance necessary.
Journal unedited
Filtering and self-editing often protect us socially, which is good, but a journal (or for me, the Notes app) should be a space where you’re free from that pressure. Give yourself permission to write, draw, or create without rules. As someone who writes for her job, I lower the stakes by reminding myself: clarity isn’t necessary here. I’m not trying to tell a story, convey a message, or even fully understand my emotions. There’s no audience. (I hope.)
If you want a place to start, take a few minutes to try one of these self-reflection prompts next time you’re feeling emotionally spent:
-
What are the top three things you pretend don’t bother you?
-
Who are you performing for—and what would it feel like to pause that performance?
-
When was the last time you let yourself feel something fully without judging it?
-
What are you not doing because you’re afraid you’ll be judged for it?
-
What are you withholding about yourself that’s keeping you from connecting authentically with others—or, in the gentlest way possible, from disconnecting from people who are no longer aligned?
The truth is, you need space to stop performing—space where you don’t have to be “on.” And it’s likely at least one of those spaces is already at your fingertips.
