My Year Of Rest And Relaxation Novels & Stories

The last time I felt like this–this worn to the bone–was right after the war when Cole and I closed ourselves in my old dorm room for an entire week just to rest, recoup, and come to terms with what we’d just been through–and somehow survived against all odds. I pull my shirt over my head and shimmy out of my pants before tying my hair up and sinking into the water, groaning softly at the heat. The warmth works through my muscles, untangling knots from the stress and uncertainty of the last several days–the last several weeks, in fact. I can feel my healing powers working beneath my skin. What they’re doing, I have no idea, but soon I’m totally limp and relaxed, leaning my head against the s

"Go freshen up, you're exhausted. My sleep is peaceful, the most peaceful night rest I have had in a really long while and what makes it even better is that I was given the Saturday off, So, I slept in. I intend to maximise this relaxation time I've gotten. "A trip to the park would be nice" my smile widens at the thought. It has been a while since I did that.

"You aren't fit for that kind of stress yet. I mean, Diane, we both know. You've… you’ve been sick. You’ve been tired. You need to rest. We both know what the doctor said. The healers. Everyone says you need rest. And that rest is the most important thing for you right now." Funny. I pulled my hand away. "I’ve rested for months, Julian. Almost half a year of rest. I’m bored of resting. Any other rest will be me resting in peace. And I don't want that." Julian sighed. He leaned back and then started to lecture me. This was his favorite thing to do. He talked to me like I was a child who didn't understand how the world worked.

Compared to being exposed to the elements outside, at least the restroom shielded me from the storm. The silent restroom was filled only with the faint sound of my breathing and the howling wind outside. All of the hurt and past grievances that I'd deliberately tried to shove aside came flooding over me once more. I remembered what had happened last Christmas. Ava received a brand-new fur coat, and Jamie got a limited-edition werewolf figurine. What I got was a hand-me-down sweater from Ava, which she'd outgrown. The collar was already loose from repeated wear and washing, and the sleeves were fraying.

The sheets felt cool against my skin, offering a respite from the heat of the day. The weight of the world seemed to momentarily lift as I allowed my body to relax, my muscles gradually easing into a state of tranquility. The doctor's words echoed in my mind, reminding me of the importance of rest and self-care. It had become a routine, a necessary pause amidst the chaos of life. At least two hours of uninterrupted rest each day were prescribed to replenish my energy and promote overall well-being for me and the baby. As I lay there, I embraced the opportunity to indulge in this precious time of respite.

Completely ready. To rest.

“Just breathe.” Her hands worked expertly across my shoulders, easing the tension that had been sitting there for days. The scent of the oils and the rhythmic sound of her soft humming lulled me into a foggy calm. When she was done, she handed me a glass of water and a small pill. “Melatonin,” she said. “It’ll help you rest.” I took it, showered quickly, and changed into one of Damian’s old shirts I’d found folded neatly in the drawer. The scent of him surrounded me as I slipped into the bed, clean sheets cool against my skin.

--- The thinking happened over the six days. Not planned — the rest that Dr. Chen had prescribed was real rest, the specific quality of someone allowing their body to do the work it needed to do without directing that work toward anything external. But thinking doesn't require direction. It happens in the spaces of real rest, in the specific quiet of a recovering body that has reduced the demands on the mind and left it with the kind of unfocused attention that sometimes produces the clearest pictures. I thought about Tessa. About *you said we weren't the last. You were right. So we act like it.*

The tough decisions were Helen's to make. The following day, Chloe strode into the office and handed in her resignation. When she got home, she began to sift through the mountain of photos that chronicled the trio's shared history. Over twenty years of friendship had produced album after album of memories. Childhood games of house with Andrew and Stephen, middle school award ceremonies, college road trips... Each photo brought the past to life, as if she could step right back into those moments. However, those days were gone, and they did not matter anymore.

I spent the first 2 days on the island drinking, smoking the island grown ganja, ugly crying, and when I reach exhaustion sleeping for 10 hrs. Something I hand done in years because I need to keep everything perfect for Sam so he’d love me. I’d called all 3 of my kids this morning, Damien reassured we that everything was fine. Turns out he had contacted Lena this past weekend and Lena had arranged for me to attend a retreat of the coast of Croatia that was geared towards helping executives decompress from the stress of high demand jobs. An executive I was not and I love my job so I don’t find it stressful, but I wasn’t going to complain and knew I was in much need of intense therapy.