When Rest Became my Revolution

“Rest is My Rebellion”, digital illustration, 2025. Artwork by Jazzy A. Johnson. © 2025

There comes a moment when your body speaks louder than your denial. For me, rest didn’t arrive as a luxury – it came as a warning. This is the story of how emotional boundaries became the most revolutionary form of rest I had ever known. 

I hung up the phone and instantly became sick. Nausea rose from my stomach to my throat as humiliation, heartbreak, and betrayal hit me all at once. The man I loved, the man I was engaged to, the man I dreamed of building a life with – had exposed me in the most intimate, degrading way. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, trembling, sobbing, and confused. What I thought was love suddenly felt like war, and I was the battlefield.

Yet instead of exploding in rage, I imploded in silence.

I told no one. Shame convinced me to isolate. Pride made me pretend. I walked around with a smile while I died privately inside. When he returned home, I told him to leave – and I meant it. But even in that moment of strength, I was shattered. He packed his things, stole half the house out of spite, even slashed the loveseat and left it on the lawn like a final insult. I swore I would never go back, but that vow didn’t stop the emotional freefall that followed.

I still had children to care for. I still had patients depending on me at work. But on weekends, I could barely get out of bed. I wasn’t eating. My hair was coming out in the shower in thick clumps. My skin was breaking out. It felt like my body was grieving a breakup my mouth refused to admit was destroying me. I told myself I was “fine.” I told myself I was “strong.” I told myself, “Just push through.” But I wasn’t fine. And I wasn’t strong. I was shutting down

One afternoon at the hospital, while charting on a patient, I felt a sudden tightness in my chest. The pain was sharp, heavy, and unrelenting. My heart pounded uncontrollably. I grabbed ginger ale, Motrin, and Tums – anything to dismiss what I desperately hoped was “just heartburn.” But it didn’t stop. I notified my supervisor, and before I knew it, I was lying on a bed, hooked up to an EKG machine.

The results weren’t normal. The next day, a stress test revealed the truth I had been running from: my body was breaking under the weight of emotional warfare. The doctor looked me in my eyes and said, “You have to manage your stress. Your body can’t keep carrying what you’re carrying.”

I went home with discharge papers, but what I really left with was revelation.

My body wasn’t betraying me – it was begging me.

Begging me to stop.

Begging me to release what was killing my peace.

Begging me to choose rest instead of survival mode.

That was the day I learned something I want every woman to know: rest is not just sleep. Rest is not collapsing into a pillow after you’ve given yourself down to the bone. Rest is boundaries. Rest is emotional honesty. Rest is refusing to carry burdens God never assigned you. Rest is saying “no” and not apologizing for protecting your spirit.

For me, rest looked like separation. Rest looked like shutting the emotional door I kept unlocked. Rest looked like not giving him access to my mind, my heart, or my peace. Rest looked like admitting, “I am not okay,” and letting healing begin there.

I used to think being a strong woman meant enduring pain without flinching. But I’ve learned that real strength is refusing to let pain be your normal. Real strength is rest. Real strength is peace. Real strength is walking away from anything that threatens your wholeness.

God didn’t create me to live in chaos. He didn’t call me to worship disappointment, carry betrayal, or ignore the sound of my own soul crying. He called me to peace. And choosing that peace – through emotional boundaries – was the most revolutionary act of self-love I have ever made.

I am no longer at war with myself.

My rest is my rebellion.

My boundaries are my revolution.

And my peace is non-negotiable.

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ABOUT JAZZY

Jazzy A. Johnson is a nurse, author, and self-love coach dedicated to helping women heal from emotional trauma and reclaim their identity in God. Through her book Love After War  and her community work, she empowers others to break cycles, set boundaries, and choose peace. Jazzy is passionate about faith, family, and guiding women toward wholeness — mind, body, and spirit. 

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Buy my latest book: Love After War