Audio Version:
For everyone too exhausted to even try to relax
Dear Friend,
Each of us arrives at rest carrying our own story, often shaped by striving, stress, and the quiet ache for relief. My rest story began in the chaos of launching a massive healing summit. But before you step into my experience, pause and ask yourself: What is your rest story? When did you notice that rest could be medicine?
In 2021, I launched The Trauma Recovery Summit to help others recover from trauma. Instead, it nearly destroyed me. 65,000 people registered. Their stories flooded my inbox: raw accounts of abuse, loss, and pain I had no training to handle. I’d wanted to create something transformative but found myself drowning in desperate pleas for help. Each morning, I woke crushed by suffering I couldn’t address. My energy shattered piece by piece with every email I couldn’t answer, every trauma I wasn’t equipped to heal.
One September afternoon, after the summit ended, I sat in my car in a supermarket parking lot, unable to walk inside. Another notification buzzed, and I felt something inside me snap quietly under chronic tension.
That’s when Lyla called.
“You sound like you’re barely breathing,” she said immediately. “When did you last have a full night’s sleep?”
I couldn’t remember.
“Listen, you’re past self-care routines and trying to meditate. You need something for people who have nothing left. Have you heard of Yoga Nidra?”
I had, but asked her to tell me more.
“It’s a deep rest practice, conscious sleep. You don’t move. You don’t have to focus or breathe a certain way or hold a single thought. You lie down and get comfortable while someone’s voice guides you into profound rest. It’s for people who’ve forgotten how to rest. For when you’re too exhausted to even try to relax.”
She paused. “Sarah, you don’t have to do anything. That’s the whole point. Just lie down and let the practice hold you.”
That night, I found a Yoga Nidra recording by Tracee Stanley. I lay down, following her instructions. “Welcome yourself here,” she began, and her words opened a hidden door inside me.
For half an hour, I drifted between sleep and waking. My muscles unclenched for the first time in months. My mind slowed. I hovered in a space that felt sacred and safe. When the session ended, I didn’t feel magically restored. But I felt held by the practice and by self-compassion I’d lost.
I began practicing daily. Tracee’s voice became the structure for my unraveling. Yoga Nidra wasn’t just relaxation; it was a conscious reset for my nervous system, a space to witness my pain, and gradually, a rekindling of trust in my inner wisdom.
Some days, I cried and let go. Other days, I floated in surprising peace. Healing arrived quietly. Slowly, I began feeling like myself.
This practice taught me what I had forgotten: restoring ourselves isn’t about doing more, but surrendering to what is. Sometimes healing is staying present, allowing life to move through us, knowing rest itself can be a teacher.
As my system found equilibrium, everything changed. I restructured my business, released what wasn’t working, and set boundaries that honored my humanity. The summit that nearly broke me became a passage that gave me resilience, awareness, and courage to lead differently.
Yoga Nidra showed me that radical rest is essential. In a culture that worships busy, this practice returned me to the profound power of lying down, closing my eyes, and reclaiming wholeness.
But what truly moved me: This practice shouldn’t be a luxury or require expensive retreats. Everyone running on empty deserves access to this medicine.
That’s why I created a free Yoga Nidra channel on YouTube. because I remember that parking lot moment, the desperation for something to help me breathe again. I remember not having the energy to search, pay, or figure out one more thing. If you’re in that place now, these practices are here for you. Free. Accessible. Ready when you are.
When practiced regularly, Yoga Nidra shifts everything by returning you to yourself. Rest meets you where you are, whenever you’re willing to let it in. Sometimes medicine looks like doing less, sometimes like doing nothing at all. Always, it takes courage to receive.
If you find yourself depleted, holding more than you’re able, consider this your invitation: Rest is a sacred act. Welcome yourself, and watch healing begin.
The practices are waiting whenever you’re ready. Because everyone deserves to remember what it feels like to truly rest.
From my quiet corner to yours,
Sarah
