The Legalization of Tension: Why the Command 'Relax' Is a Form of Violence Against the Body

You have done a tremendous amount of work. You found your physical support, learned to breathe without breaking your defenses, and allowed anxious thoughts to slide off like drops on teflon. You are sitting in a chair, scanning your body. Everything seems calm, but somewhere deep down—in your jaw, your shoulders, or your abdomen—a stubborn, tight knot of tension is still hiding.

And then your inner dictator wakes up. You frown and mentally (or even out loud) command yourself: “Come on, relax already! I’m doing everything right, why are you still tense?!”.

At that exact moment, all the magic collapses. The knot in your abdomen tightens even further. Why? Because the direct command “relax” is not care. It’s aggression.

The Body as a Subordinate Mechanism

The culture of toxic productivity has conditioned us to treat the body as a mechanism obliged to serve us. We perceive tension as a breakdown, a bug in the system that must be fixed immediately so we can continue functioning efficiently.

When you order yourself to relax, you are acting from the position of an irritated boss. You invalidate your body’s reality. Imagine standing in the freezing cold, shaking, and someone walks up and sternly says: “Just stop freezing. Relax and warm up.” It’s absurd.

Your body isn’t tense out of spite. It is holding onto that spasm because some part of it still believes the environment is unsafe. By ordering it to relax, you are literally saying: “I don’t care about your reasons and fears; I need you to be convenient right now.”

The Paradox of Transformation

In psychology, there is a golden rule: change doesn’t happen when we try to become someone else, but when we fully accept ourselves as we are right now. The same works with somatics.

The body cannot be outsmarted. It relaxes in only one case—when it feels total acceptance.

For that tight knot of tension to leave, it must be legalized. Legalizing means issuing an official permit for it to exist, with no expiration dates or conditions.

The Practice of Radical Permission

Instead of fighting residual tension, try changing the tone of your internal dialogue.

  1. Notice the dictator. Catch the moment when you start getting angry at your body for not being “relaxed enough.” Stop this impulse to fix things.

  2. Remove the deadline for relaxation. Tell your tension: “You can stay here for as long as you need to. I won’t kick you out.”

  3. Show curiosity instead of evaluation. Shift your focus from the desire to get rid of the discomfort to sincere curiosity. What is it like, this tension? Heavy? Cold? Pulsating? As soon as you begin to explore a physical sensation without trying to destroy it, the nervous system receives a signal of deep safety.

When you stop fighting your own body, an amazing thing happens: tension that has been allowed to simply be loses its density. It melts away on its own, because it no longer needs to defend itself against your own inner critic.

From Body to System

This past month has been dedicated to returning to the body. We learned to notice the “jammer,” melt the muscle armor, and stop fighting our own anxiety. Now your physical space is safe territory. Tension that has been allowed to simply be is gradually losing its density.

But as soon as physical panic subsides and the body finally relaxes, we encounter a new, completely unexpected trap. In this unfamiliar, safe silence, we suddenly realize that we… cannot force ourselves to work.

Our nervous system is so used to functioning on stress fuel that a calm state feels “non-working.” And then, to regain the ability to act, the brain begins to artificially sabotage the process.

Why do we subconsciously procrastinate tasks until the very deadline? Why do we use panic as a starter motor for work, and how does this relate to the illusion of control? In the next article, we open a new chapter and analyze the phenomenon of the “Adrenaline Needle”—how we voluntarily burn our resources just to feel alive and productive.

The materials in this journal reflect my personal vision and experience of navigating psychological processes. I share this sincerely so that readers with similar experiences can rely on these reflections to make sense of their own lives. The texts presented are by no means a medical diagnosis, a call to action, or a universal solution algorithm.