The Ultimate Somatic Challenge: Learning to Tolerate Stillness

A couple of weeks ago, my body finally forced me to stop.

After months of pushing through what I thought was simply the heavy emotional weight of daily life, a blood test revealed iron deficiency with anaemia. My ferritin was 8 µg/L: a sign that my iron stores were significantly depleted.

The shock was profound. I genuinely believed I was eating well, preparing nourishing meals, and giving my physical body everything it needed to thrive. But looking at those numbers, the thick brain fog, bone-crushing exhaustion, heavy limbs, and the loss of upper-body strength suddenly made complete sense. My physical vessel had been running on fumes.

And yet, even with undeniable medical proof in front of me, my first instinct was not to rest.

It was to push.

The Generational Habit of Pushing Through

If you are anything like me, you may carry a generational habit of pushing through. We have watched women before us carry the immense weight of family, work, survival, and caregiving without ever laying it down.

A trauma-conditioned nervous system does not always interpret profound fatigue as a biological request for rest. It can interpret fatigue as vulnerability.

When my energy dropped, my body panicked. It flooded me with urgency and whispered: If we stop, we are unsafe. Go for a walk. Hit the hills. Create a post. Check your phone. Keep scrolling. Whatever you do, just keep doing something.

Regulation vs. Physical Reserves

For those of us who find sanctuary in nature—in walking, wild water, open hills, and the rhythm of the outdoors—movement can be genuinely regulating. It can clear the mind and offer a temporary lift.

But I had to face a hard truth: there is an important difference between settling a stressed nervous system and respecting your body’s deep physical limits.

A long, steep walk may soothe an overwhelmed mind, but it asks too much of a body with depleted iron reserves. Iron deficiency can severely drain your physical endurance and create exhaustion, even when the anaemia itself is mild.

It is like pressing the accelerator when your fuel tank is nearly empty. The engine may rev for a while, but it is using the last of what remains.

The Biological Drain vs. The Nervous-System Tax

Profound tiredness often has more than one layer.

The first is biological: iron deficiency, anaemia, recovery after an illness, physical pain, hormonal changes, or another health condition that reduces the actual energy available to the body. This needs medical attention, nourishment, pacing, and real rest. 

The second is what I call the "Nervous System Tax". This is the background hypervigilance, muscular bracing, and relentless productivity pressure that continues burning fuel even while we appear to be sitting still. If we do not address this tax, we continue wasting precious energy on a perceived threat, even when our physical body is begging us to power down. 

Why Stillness Can Feel Like a Threat

Why do some of us panic when we finally lie down?

When the capacity to soothe is underdeveloped, turning off our "drive" can drop a trauma-conditioned body straight into threat: anxiety, hypervigilance, shame, guilt, or a heavy freeze response.  

For some people, being told simply to rest—to lie still in a dark, silent room—can create internal chaos rather than relief. An unanchored mind in silence may feel less like relaxation and more like danger.  

That relentless urge to "do" may be held by an old protector: the "Pusher Part" that once kept you safe. It may still fear that everything will fall apart if you stop. Underneath, it may be terrified of being judged as lazy, useless, or unworthy if it is not constantly moving, producing, and achieving.  

Rest has to feel physically safe before it can become restorative.  

How to Tolerate Stillness: The Somatic Toolkit

You cannot force a highly alert, trauma-conditioned body into deep relaxation overnight. Instead, we can use small, active sensory signals of safety to gently hold the nervous system while the physical body begins to power down.  

Here are a few gentle tools you can use:

• Somatic Containment: Place a hand gently over your chest, belly, or upper arms. Let the warmth and pressure offer your body a soft boundary.  

• Active Sensory Signals: Use a weighted blanket, cozy warmth, a favorite cardigan, or soft ambient nature sounds.  

• Gentle Orienting: Let your eyes move slowly, unhurriedly around the room. Notice colors, objects, or textures that feel familiar, allowing your brainstem to receive the message that there are no immediate threats.  

• Extended Exhales: Try a soft breath in for three seconds and a comfortable breath out for six. A longer exhale can support a calmer physiological state without requiring physical exertion.

• Negotiate Micro-Pauses: Do not demand a complete shutdown from your Pusher Part. Negotiate. Ask yourself: "Checking in with my battery right now, what is ONE single thing I can drop to preserve 10% more energy?"

The Invitation to Stop

Regulation is not about forcing yourself to relax. It is the gentle process of teaching your physiology, one tiny degree at a time, that safety in stillness is possible.

This week, I am putting down the armor. I am swapping 45-minute hill walks for 15-minute flat strolls with Poppy (my 5 month old puppy). I am learning that taking a thick blanket and a warm flask of cacao to sit beside the loch can be just as worthy as conquering the peak.

You do not have to earn your rest by pushing your physical vessel until it fails.

You are allowed to just stop.

Note: This reflection is not medical advice. Persistent or worsening fatigue, weakness, breathlessness, or heavy changes in bleeding should always be discussed with a GP or appropriate healthcare professional.