Let me just say this up front: I did not want to sit down.

But when you have bunion surgery and suddenly can’t drive, can’t just “run a quick errand,” and need help doing the most basic things — like getting food, getting dressed, or getting anywhere — you have no choice but to slow all the way down.

I thought I was ready for that. I really did. But the truth is, this experience rocked me. Because while my foot was healing, it was like the rest of me had to catch up — mentally, emotionally, spiritually. It turns out, what I really needed wasn’t just a medical procedure. I needed a pause.

And the universe said: “Bet. Let’s give you one.”

When You Keep Putting Yourself on Hold

Let me be real: I almost didn’t schedule the surgery. Not because I didn’t need it — I did. But because I felt guilty.

I help care for my sick grandmother. And I knew that if I went through with the surgery, my mom would have to carry even more. I worried I’d be adding to her load instead of easing it.

So I wanted to put it off. Like so many of us do. We delay doctor’s appointments. Cancel therapy. Push through chronic pain. Tell ourselves, “I’ll get to it when things calm down.”

But they rarely do.

There’s always someone who needs us. Always something we “should” be doing. And so our healing takes a backseat… until it can’t anymore.

“Accept the Rest.”

Right before my surgery, I was venting to a Black woman I trust and admire — wise, grounded, the kind of sister who doesn’t need to raise her voice to shake your soul. I was spiraling: “I won’t be able to drive. I hate being dependent. I don’t want to be a burden.

She listened patiently, then gently said:
“Sis… accept the rest.”

Just like that. Three words that held so much power.

Not “make the most of it.” Not “grin and bear it.” Not “push through it.”

Accept. The. Rest.

It was the exact opposite of everything I’ve conditioned myself to do.

The Pushing Through Trap

I’ve built a whole life on pushing through. Pushing through chronic illness. Pushing through pain. Pushing through exhaustion, deadlines, grief, and obligation — all while trying to show up like everything is fine.

But pushing through is not always power. Sometimes it’s just prolonged neglect.

Sometimes we’re not being strong — we’re just afraid of what will happen if we stop.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

Stopping doesn’t mean failing. It means choosing yourself before your body forces you to.

Receiving Is Its Own Kind of Power

Asking for help? Accepting care? Letting people show up for you? Whew — that was uncomfortable. But it reminded me that being cared for is not weakness. It’s part of being human.

Love flows both ways. And you are not a burden for needing what you so freely give.

Rest Is Sacred. Rest Is Radical.

For Black women especially, rest is more than self-care. It’s resistance. It’s a reclamation of our time, our healing, our softness.

I’m still healing — not just physically, but from all the years I believed rest had to be earned through suffering.

And let me tell you: I’m done pushing.

Let This Be Your Permission Slip

Don’t wait for the breakdown to make you sit down.

Don’t wait until the appointment becomes urgent, until the pain becomes unbearable, until the fatigue makes your body quit on you.

If you’re tired, worn out, or holding it all together with spiritual duct tape — let go. Rest now. Before the universe sits you down.

Don’t wait until you have to rest.

Because sometimes the strongest thing you can do isn’t to push through — it’s to surrender.

Let this be your moment.
Let this be your permission.
And when rest comes — even if it’s wrapped in inconvenience or guilt — don’t push through.

Accept the rest.

You are worthy of softness, stillness, and care — even when you’re not carrying everything and everyone else.

You are not a burden. You are not behind. You are not too much.
You are simply human. And you deserve to be held, too.