A letter about doing nothing

Dear You —

It’s the last day of January (even though I spent the whole day yesterday thinking it was the last day and found out this morning there are 31 days in the month - who knew?!) and I’m reflecting on how this shiny new month of this shiny new year has felt for me.

Rather than days full of momentum driven goal chasing, my days have been filled with a sweet and slow creep into each morning. And by slow creep, I mean waking up at 12pm, eating a Tik Tok ramen recipe for breakfast, and then curling up on the couch to read fiction books and knit until my husband reminds me that it’s now 5pm and time to eat dinner.

And while I would love to say this kind of “I’m dong nothing today” approach day in and day out has been peachy keen, it’s actually been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever attempted to do.

Because as I lay there rubbing my feet together like a cozy little cricket under my weighted blanket asking my dogs to come cuddle with me, there’s been an inner critic asking me to get up and do, rather than just be.

…It’s been calling me lazy and harassing me about how much time I’m wasting while my peers are surely somewhere making things happen for themselves.

…It’s been mocking how silly and irresponsible I’m being to sit here while all this opportunity passes me by.

…It’s been going on and on about how scarce resources are and that by just laying here, I am doing absolutely nothing of value with the little resources I do have.

… It’s been saying, “You can’t just lay around and do nothing.”

And it wasn’t until last week that I realized it was robbing me of my satisfaction. Stealing little moments of joy and calling them names. Tricking me into believing that I was giving myself days full of deep uninterrupted rest, when it was anything but and quite interrupted by this inner critic if you ask me.

When I realized that what I was labeling as “nothing” was actually doing whatever I want and whatever made me happy with my days, it helped me unlock a powerful idea that that meant I was viewing my desires as nothing. Labeling what Maliquea wants as unimportant and what Maliquea needs as unworthy.

By definition the word “nothing” as an adjective means: having no prospect of progress; of no value.

The world we live in has assigned each of us a responsibility to make so much progress, and be so productive, in order to be of value.

So it obviously feels completely uncomfortable to challenge this narrative by choosing to see your time freedom and rest as productive, and worthy. It feels confusing to deeply desire and dream of a life where you are able to rest and do whatever you want, only to then experience tons of guilt and shame when you get a little taste of it.

This month I’ve been getting curious about why having my needs met, being satisfied, and rest feels so unfamiliar to me. Why it makes me so uncomfortable and why all this time I have felt so undeserving of it. Why it is so important to me, but I am so quick to just call it nothing.

The answer is complicated and tangled up and messy but I’m leaning in and listening to what this time is trying to tell me right now. It’s hard but I’m willing to do the work to learn a new way. A more self honoring way. A more sustainable way.

I’m writing to you today to deliver this message in hopes that you’ll think twice before casually labeling your deep desire for time freedom, rest and self care with this little word (nothing) that makes a HUGE impact on how you view your worthiness and your value and what you deserve.

I’m writing to you today because I wonder if you’ve been feeling like your rest is nothing or that the things you really, really want for yourself have no value and belong in last place.

Your desires and what makes you happy is everything.

Your ability to seek out ease, and rest, and slowness and stillness in a time where it makes no sense to do so is brave and worthy of acknowledgement.

It is so full and delicious and covered in savory goodness.

Goodness that you will miss by allowing your worth to be determined by how much you can do in a day.

Goodness that you deserve.

Goodness that it’s okay to mourn and grieve for the times you didn’t have it.

Goodness that you can be satisfied with and enjoy right now when you silence all the narratives that tell you otherwise.

I hope that the next time you take a break and give yourself the gift of rest or choose to do whatever the hell you want with your day, you will resist the urge to say you’re doing “nothing” and realize that this takes so much power from what you’re really doing:

Healing. Processing. Recharging. Self Honoring. Listening. Loving. Everything.

I hope that this simple reframe transforms the next moment of self care that you offer yourself and allows you to take in all it’s goodness.

Because you deserve it so much.

Talk soon,
M.

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