Allowing Yourself to Stop

I say hello to you once again!

Sometimes it seems that everyone has an opinion about summer. For some, it's too rainy, with too little sun; for others, it's simply too short. And for me, to my own surprise, it feels like such a genuine, Lithuanian summer. With clouds, wind, rain, birds, and that special silence that appears when you allow yourself to stop. I notice that more and more often I simply want to be: listen to an audiobook, count the clouds in the sky, breathe in the scent of the forest and meadow, or simply immerse myself in the peace that nature brings.

Only here's the thing... doing nothing is far harder than saying those words out loud. As soon as I mentally formulate the intention to rest, my body is already sending contradictory signals. First, I feel anxiety, and then I suddenly remember yet another task I could do. However, in such situations, words once spoken by psychiatrist and psychotherapist Eugenijus Laurinaitis have become my mantra: "the person who knows how to work well is the one who knows how to rest well."

So why is it so difficult even to sit with the thought of doing nothing? Why do even thoughts of rest evoke tension?

→ Here are a few possible reasons

Fear of meeting oneself. When we stop doing, silence settles in. And in that silence, not only the birds or the wind begin to be heard, but also the inner voice. And within it are unheard desires, unfelt emotions, sometimes guilt, sadness, loneliness, or questions about the direction of life. Doing nothing becomes an encounter with what we are running away from—a conversation with oneself.

Shame and a crisis of self-worth. Many of us have been taught to feel worthy only when we are useful, productive, and pursuing goals. For many people, doing nothing means being lazy, irresponsible, or unneeded. As if permission to rest were a luxury rather than our birthright.

Cultural expectation. We live in a culture where activity = worth. Rushing is normalized and even desirable. The question how are you doing? often means how much have you achieved? Consciously choosing to stop in our culture is equivalent to being a black sheep and going against the current.

The illusion of control. Activity gives the feeling that you are in control of the situation. When you do nothing, you are left vulnerable, as if nothing depends on you anymore. For some, this causes anxiety. Thus, doing becomes a way we manage our anxiety. And instead of choosing to stay with it and get to know it, we choose to keep hiding it.

Addiction to stress hormones. Especially if a person has lived in tension or under heavy responsibility for a long time, their body gets used to elevated cortisol, while adrenaline combined with dopamine becomes a kind of cocktail to which the person becomes addicted. Resting becomes... uncomfortable. Then doing nothing is physically difficult—the body does not settle down.

Fear of missing out on life. Subconscious pressure operates: if I stop now, I'll miss something, fall behind, be last. As if life were a race with no time to catch one's breath.

Yet in reality, doing nothing often opens the door to the greatest changes. It is precisely then that intuition, creativity, clarity, and connection with oneself are born. Not for nothing do many traditions speak of rest, silence, and retreat as gateways to inner transformation. Rest is not the opposite of growth. Rest is a prerequisite for growth. Because by resting, or simply being, we replenish the resource that we later use for activity.

The changing perspective on health and quality of life

In recent years, the topic of health has been shifting not only scientifically, but also humanly. More and more people are growing tired of doing for the sake of doing, superficial promises, or quick fixes that turn out not to work later on. A need for depth and authenticity arises. Health is beginning to mean not just not being sick, but also how you live, sleep, rest, feel, breathe, enjoy, and experience life.

I briefly share a few trends that are currently reshaping the general understanding of health and quality of life.

A calm nervous system – the new normal

Slower living and nervous system regulation. Research is growing on the impact of stress, burnout, and the autonomic nervous system on all diseases. People are increasingly interested in nervous system hygiene, which encompasses breathing exercises, polyvagal theory, somatic methods, slow movement, conscious rest, and sleep. The realization that a calm nervous system is the foundation of health, rather than just a pleasant bonus, is becoming the new normal.

Thus, sleep is being discussed more and more as a crucial element in achieving a calm nervous system. Its quality is considered a cornerstone factor in longevity and emotional health.

Sleep quality affects almost all systems in our body:→ cardiovascular function,→ metabolism and insulin sensitivity,→ hormonal balance,→ gut bacterial diversity,→ emotional regulation and stress tolerance.

Health research shows:

< 6 hours of sleep is associated with a higher risk of obesity, type 2 diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, depression, and anxiety.

A 13-year study of > 43,000 people showed that sleeping < 5 hours on weekends under the age of 65 increases mortality by 52%.

Just 4 hours of sleep reduces insulin resistance by ~30–40% and prolongs glucose processing by ~40%.

Sleep deprivation = hormonal imbalance

When sleep is lacking, levels of ghrelin (the hunger hormone) increase, while leptin (the satiety hormone) decreases. This promotes overeating, and we are then prone to choosing less health-friendly food—various quick snacks.

By maintaining a constant sleep deficit, we learn to live "on credit." However, all our choices come at a price. So in this case as well, when lacking sleep, the body no longer restores metabolic balance, cortisol levels rise, and therefore the morning may bring not only fatigue, but also a greater glucose problem (higher blood sugar levels).

During sleep, the glymphatic system in the brain activates and clears toxins—like a nighttime brain-cleaning crew. This process hardly occurs during wakefulness, so a lack of sleep impairs the clearance of toxins from the brain.

What does this mean? Sleep must no longer be an "if there is time left" matter, but the foundation of overall quality of life, because sleep heals.

Tips that can help restore a healthy relationship with sleep:

Routine. It is important not only for children, but also for adults, especially when it comes to sleep. Therefore, going to bed and waking up at a similar time (preferably before 10 PM), even on weekends, should become a new habit.

Screen-free. Declare the bedroom a screen-free zone, maintain a slightly cool temperature—around 18 °C—and ensure complete darkness.

Mindful preparation. Before going to bed, do breathing exercises, meditation, a gentle yoga session, or read a book.

Scientific research shows that physical contact with the natural surface of the earth, known as grounding (or earthing), reduces inflammation, regulates cortisol levels, improves sleep, and eases anxiety. When our feet touch the ground, electrons transferred through the skin neutralize excess oxidative stress. Yet even without research, the body itself knows that connecting with the earth brings calm.

Feeding the mind

Summer is special to me not only because of nature, but also because during this time I allow myself to dive much deeper into the world of books. I devour books everywhere and in every format—I listen to them in the car, while working out, or going for a walk. In the evenings, before going to sleep, I leaf through a few pages.

This time I would like to share one of those books that I had long dreamed of reading, but could never find the time. So I was very glad when I found it on audioteka.lt—it is Ayn Rand's philosophical novel The Fountainhead. This book is about creativity, individuality, and the courage to follow your own path even when no one around you understands it.

The main character is the architect Howard Roark, who creates according to his own inner principles. He does not cater to the expectations of clients or society. And that is precisely what makes him a creator rather than a craftsman.

The themes explored in the book include:

→ individualism versus collectivism,

→ creative freedom and conformism,

→ idealism and compromises,

→ personal integrity,

→ egoism as a value.

I was especially moved by the author's perspective on egoism. Since childhood, we have been taught to be good, obedient, and not to take up too much space. But this book invites us to reconsider: what if egoism could be not a destructive, but a healing force?

Rand's egoist is a person who lives according to their inner truth. Not to please or appease, but because they simply cannot do otherwise. And in doing so, they never betray themselves.

It is a decision to create the way you feel. Even if no one understands. To say "no" when everyone says "yes." And that is liberating. Because that is how we become ourselves even when our surroundings push us away. When we allow ourselves to be egoists, we start failing expectations. Because we finally choose ourselves. We no longer smile out of politeness. We do not accept invitations that do not feel right. We do not donate money just to be respected or because we are supposed to. We give when we feel fulfilled, because we want to.

This summer has become a reminder to me that allowing yourself to be an egoist means allowing yourself to be you. Not pretending, not wearing masks, not smiling out of obligation. But choosing what is authentic, because that is what helps us grow. And if even a single thought from this book stays in your heart, perhaps this summer will become a time not only for rest, but for returning to yourself.

Right after finishing The Fountainhead, I noticed Khaled Hosseini's novel The Kite Runner on audioteka.lt. I was intrigued by its description and the fact that it is set in Afghanistan. I knew very little about this country—only that it was ruled by the Taliban, had an Islamic culture, and was unsafe for women. So, when I started listening to this book, I simply wanted to learn more about the unfamiliar and thus intimidating. However, I gained far more.

It is a story about two boys in Kabul that touches the deepest layers of humanity: guilt, loyalty, identity, and forgiveness. Amir, the book's protagonist, comes from a wealthy Pashtun family, while Hassan belongs to the Hazara ethnic minority, which is considered an "inferior class." Although the boys spend their childhood together, they are separated by an invisible social divide. Amir carries lifelong guilt for what he did (and failed to do) as a child. His journey back to Afghanistan is like an effort not only to redeem his guilt, but also to reclaim his moral spine. But can what has already been done ever be undone?

One of the most painful moments is when Amir witnesses what happens to Hassan, yet chooses not to help. It is a moment when fear proves stronger than friendship. And it makes you wonder: do we always act the way we truly wish to when we find ourselves in tough situations? Is true friendship possible between people of unequal standing in society? How much of Amir lives inside us, and how much of Hassan?

The portrayal of Amir's relationship with his father also touched me deeply. Earning his father's recognition is paramount to Amir. His choices, even his passion for writing, are a relentless effort to prove that he is worthy of attention. Many literary critics consider this dynamic a motive shaping Amir into a person who wants to please, be acknowledged, and achieve something "valuable" in his father's eyes. This mirrors the experience of many of us—longing to be seen in the eyes of our parents, as if to become worthy of our very existence.

Another unexpected treasure of this book is the portrayal of Afghanistan before the collapse. In the beginning of the book, Hosseini paints a poetic portrait of Kabul: with fruit orchards, the kite festival, delicacies, and childhood friendships. Afghanistan is depicted as vibrant, full of colors and aromas—a stark contrast to what war, the Soviet invasion, and ultimately the Taliban regime would later bring. The author allows us to see Afghanistan as a lively, cultured, beautiful country, rather than just a war zone. Much attention is also given to how the war and the Taliban regime affected people from within, breaking not only physical structures, but core value systems as well.

I recommend this book not only to those looking for a profound, humane story about guilt, fear, and forgiveness, but also to anyone wishing to discover Afghanistan from a different perspective—warm, community-minded, and humane. I cannot claim to understand this country after reading just one book, but this novel added colors that helped me see that Afghanistan could once have been a place where people genuinely wanted to live.

It is a book that reminds us that each of us has our own kites that we might have to chase one day, no matter how many years have passed.