My whole life I’ve been called a busy bee. But as I’ve grown up I’ve lived up to the nickname. I started working at 15 years old, and have not stopped since, and I actually still work at my first job as the Supervisor.
Working is a part of my normal routine and relaxing is a luxury, and for some reason if my days off are not filled with things to do then this heavy weight lays on my shoulders of being guilty for not working if I don’t have anything to do. Taking a break is not easy for me because I am constantly always doing something.
I almost get FOMO (fear of missing out) or feel shameful if I have nothing to do and I don’t go to work. I guess this explains why I get so anxious when there’s nothing left to do. I hate feeling this way though, because I literally have worked my whole life. When I was a child I would get up early and go to work with my dad on the weekends and then I was forced during the week to get up and to get to school by 630am because my mom worked at my elementary school as a daycare provider for the school. Once I got to high school I was told it was my time to get a real job, so I can “pay my part”. Meaning that I was no longer my parents responsibility and that it was time to fend for myself (to an extent). Since then I have been nonstop.
My parents forced college on me and my brother but didn’t realize that college wasn’t free. They were happy when I expressed my interest in wanting to go to college but were mad when I got accepted into a private thirty thousand dollar a year school. Then they were mad when my brother decided to drop out of college. It has been an ongoing war with my parents because no matter what me and my brother did or how much we worked it was never enough. My parents have watched me and my brother struggle financially numerous times and still continued to ask for our last dollar. My brother and I were the main source of income after we got jobs because my dad got lazy and my mom worked multiple minimum wage jobs just to make her part.
Then I started college, and college students have it hard enough, let alone balance a full-time job or even multiple jobs with their studies. It has taken me 7 years to finish my undergrad because I’ve had to pay for tuition out of pocket and also balance my three jobs with my academics.
With all this being said, my parents loved the phrase you don’t know what “real stress” is. My parents still haven’t grown out of that phrase even though I work a full-time job, two part time jobs, and am taking 5/6 classes this semester. But, now I think from time to time that maybe they were right. Maybe what I am describing isn’t “real stress,” and maybe it’s just trauma. My trauma response is to crowd myself with so much to do that I literally get anxious and physically ill when I’m not constantly doing something.
Now, my parents aren’t horrible parents. Well definitely not my mom, but my dad is a different story. Maybe I am the way I am because my mom has always had multiple jobs to support my brother and I and my dad was always losing jobs and putting our family in struggle situations. So I can understand that aspect but, the diminishing of the feelings or obliviousness my parents had to the trauma they were causing on me and my brother and is something I can’t wrap my head around. My body to them is just for labor. One day when I have children I will ensure that they don’t feel the way I did/ do and their bodies aren’t just another body for labor. I stay motivated for this reason, because I will do anything to make sure my children do not ever struggle financially or emotionally the way my brother and I did.
Unruly Bodies 
As you stated at the end, it means a lot that we can be aware of the generational pressures to expend our bodies for labor, and use our own experiences with hardship to ensure that same pressure is not passed down. Making a promise to break the cycle is as good activist work as any campaigning or organizing.
I have had similar experiences with my parents. Whether it was never believing me if I was sick or waking my brother and I up at 7am on a Saturday because “the day should not be wasted”, our bodies always had to be moving. One time, I was on the bathroom floor in the fetal position from debilitating period cramps for an hour before school, and my parents handed me two advil and sent me off. Why have we been conditioned to think that rest is a waste of time? I hope too that I can one day be a part of breaking this viscous cycle.
I can totally understand your experience of the idea of how work has been forced on you since you were young. Starting work so young and having that family pressure, I understand why you would question if what you were experiencing was “real stress” was. I think it’s important to acknowledge that you’re already doing the work to break that cycle for yourself and your future children. Giving yourself permission to rest and take breaks isn’t easy, especially when you’ve been taught that your value is tied to productivity.