When The Water Keeps Rising
Thumbing through two weeks of journal entries to figure out what I wanted to write about this week has led me to pages of pleas with myself to stay focused. I'm trying not to lose sight of what's important, and failing some days. Who can blame me?
I'm exhausted.
Not the kind of tired a good night's sleep can fix, though I would welcome six hours uninterrupted by a bathroom break! It's the very real exhaustion that comes from trying to transform while the world is moving at full speed to undo itself. It's the weariness that settles in when you're trying to unlearn decades of "not enough" while simultaneously trying to show up fully for your life.
I've done a respectable job of staying out of political rabbit holes but there's only so much ignoring one can do when the water keeps rising and there’s only a matter of time before it floods your street. Are we really going to find rest, healing, and recovery in this clusterfuck?
Yes. Yes, some of us are.
Between day jobs and dreams, between advocacy and self-care, between burning bridges and building new ones, I've hit that inevitable wall. You know the one—where your phone buzzes with another crisis, another request, another headline that makes your heart sink, and your first thought is, "I can't even." And even more exhausting are the phone calls where we spend ten minutes pretending anything matters more than what's currently happening.
Some of us are built for this. I don't know if I am counting myself among these numbers. We were not all called to lead in this moment. Some of us are going to have to follow. Others of us just need to get the fuck out of the way.
In the gospel of Deservitude, we've been claiming our right to dream, to take up space, to set boundaries, and to acknowledge our grief. But today? Today I'm claiming my right to be tired. To say that transformation is exhausting. To admit that revolutionizing your relationship with deserving sometimes means collapsing into bed and reminding yourself why Shonda is the GOAT and that McDreamy was the absolute worst!
I lay there scrolling my socials with Grey's Anatomy playing in the background—Dr. Bailey gathering her interns—when I caught myself rolling my eyes at yet another post about Black women resting, the 92%, and so on. We get it; you aren't getting involved, but respectfully, GIVE IT A REST! Not all of us can put down our armor.
And then... I needed to check myself.
In truth, I'm grateful for all the Black women sending out reminders about keeping your peace and finding rest—like love letters to our restless souls. These messages are necessary to counter the narrative that rest isn't resistance. Society has conditioned us—especially Black women—to believe our strength is our defining characteristic. We're programmed to think rest is lazy, unproductive, and leads to failure. But the truth? WE MUST REST. There is so much ahead of us to do and most of us don't even know the true depths of what we are facing.
Meanwhile, I'm engaged in conversations with women—both Black and White—who are activating, readying themselves for what they are called to in this moment or in the years to come. These exchanges contain multitudes: tears of fear and exhaustion flowing alongside words of wisdom and encouragement. We gather in spaces united by a shared commitment to Black Liberation and creating a safer world, recognizing that this calling extends beyond any single community.
I'm holding all of these seemingly contradictory truths, and sometimes it makes me feel a bit crazy—this tension between rest and action, between personal transformation and collective responsibility. But I still have my assignment and that hasn't changed just because the landscape is shifting beneath my feet. I still have to continue and let myself unfold so that I can play my part.
But here's what I'm learning in day 57 of this journey: Rest isn't the opposite of revolution—it's a requirement.
When a world built on inequity expects you to work until you break, choosing to rest is resistance.
When systems of oppression benefit from your exhaustion, choosing to rest is rebellion.
When your worth has been tied to your productivity, choosing to rest is reclamation.
I will not spend the rest of my days shifting from one horrible moment to another, nor will I justify my need for restoration. This isn't laziness or giving up—it's the necessary pause that makes revolution possible. Let's be clear, one day rest may not be an option so we must gather our strength.
Deservitude must include deserving rest. Not as a reward for productivity, but as a basic human right. Not something I earn through exhaustion, but something inherent to my existence. This is about creating space where restoration takes place. Where you don't have to be useful or productive or even evolving. Where you can simply exist without justification.
So, in week 10 of this journey, I'm claiming my divine right to be tired. To move slowly. To recognize when I'm meant to lead, when I'm meant to follow, and when I need to just get the fuck out of the way.
And in doing so, I'm discovering that sometimes the most powerful way to claim what you deserve is to stop striving for it altogether—to rest in the knowledge that your worth isn't something you create through effort, but something inherently valuable just because you exist.
Weekly Deservitude Prompt:
Think about your relationship with rest in a world that keeps demanding more of you. When did you first learn that your value was tied to your productivity? What messages have you internalized about what it means to rest while the water keeps rising around you?
Write this truth to yourself: "I deserve rest that requires no justification."
When was the last time you allowed yourself to rest without guilt? What would true, restorative rest look like for you right now? What boundaries need to be established to protect your right to rest?
Consider also: How might you create space for others to rest? What practical ways can you support rest as resistance for those in your community who may not feel they have permission to pause?
Share your reflections on rest as resistance, or keep them private in your journal. Either way, you deserve the revolutionary act of putting down all you've been carrying, even if just for a moment.
-Leendaria