The Healing Power of Communal Rest: A Desert Reflection
When women rest together, something ancient and sacred is restored
When Rest Becomes a Shared Ritual
I just returned from a mama retreat with my girlfriends—an intentional pause tucked into the warm, grounding landscape of Scottsdale, Arizona. Curated by the ever-intentional Myliek Teele, the retreat wasn’t just an escape. It was a healing ceremony disguised as laughter over meals, belly-deep conversations, poolside stillness, and the kind of ease you can only experience when no one needs you for a little while.
We didn’t perform rest. We practiced it, in community.
What Is Communal Rest?
Communal rest is when rest becomes a collective act. It's not just about being in the same space—it’s about being seen, softened, and supported with others. It’s different from solitude. It’s rest that allows you to lay your armor down, because you’re surrounded by people who have chosen to carry it.
In many ways, communal rest is ancestral. It echoes the village model, where women cooked together, raised children together, grieved and healed together. It reminds us: you were never meant to do this alone.
What We Did (and Didn’t Do)
We didn’t have a rigid itinerary. Our schedule was built around ease: sleep in, sunbathe, eat well, take a nap if you need to. There was time for solo stillness and space for group joy.
There was something holy about laughing so hard we cried, and also about those quiet moments when no one spoke but everyone was fully present.
Rest isn’t always silent. Sometimes it sounds like “girl, I get it,” and feels like an unraveling.
Rest That Speaks—and Heals
There’s a cost to carrying what you don’t express.
When we don’t speak our needs, our bodies eventually speak for us through migraines, gut issues, panic attacks, chronic fatigue, flares of pain we can’t explain. These aren’t random. They’re messages. They’re the body screaming what the mouth has kept quiet for too long.
Bessel van der Kolk writes in The Body Keeps the Score that our unspoken experiences, especially those tied to stress, trauma, or emotional suppression don’t just disappear. They live on in the body. They imprint. They tighten in our shoulders, knot up in our stomachs, quicken our breath, disrupt our sleep. And unless we find safe spaces to release and process them, they stay stuck.
This is why communal rest matters.
When women come together in safe, soft spaces—where we can vent, unravel, cry, laugh, or say “I’m not okay” without judgment—something opens. We metabolize the unspoken. We let it out through story, stillness, and togetherness.
On our retreat, no one asked anyone to “be strong.” We let ourselves be seen. We let go. And in that letting go, we found healing.
Rest isn’t always quiet. Sometimes it sounds like a deep exhale, or the words “me too.”
Sometimes it’s belly laughter. Sometimes it’s just sitting next to someone who understands without you saying a word.
But in all its forms, it helps your body know:
You’re safe now. You can stop holding it all.
What the Research Says
This isn’t just a poetic idea—it’s backed by science.
In a 10-year study, women who stayed silent during conflict were four times more likely to die prematurely—even after accounting for other health factors.
Women who suppress emotions like anger or sadness are more prone to autoimmune diseases, migraines, insomnia, and IBS.
One study found that self-silencing is linked to increased plaque buildup in the arteries of women of color—a marker for heart attacks and strokes.
Across the board, women experience anxiety, depression, and PTSD at nearly twice the rate of men—and emotional suppression plays a role.
When we don’t speak, our bodies shout. And over time, those shouts can become illness.
This is why venting in community isn’t “just talking.” It’s a release. A lifeline. A way back to ourselves.
A Gentle Invitation
This trip reminded me why I created The helpful habit in the first place. Not just to teach about rest—but to live it, model it, and remember it together.
So here’s your invitation:
Find your circle, no matter how small. Schedule rest like you would a meeting. Put it on the calendar. Honor it like a ceremony.
Whether it’s a desert getaway or a shared cup of tea on a Sunday afternoon, let rest be something you do together.
Because when women gather to rest, we don’t just restore ourselves—we restore the world.