Some say that I have elevated napping to an art form. This may very well be true as I have cultivated napping over the years. I’ve curated the best spaces to nap (sofas, Ubers, airports, tiny beds at department stores) and the most useful materials needed to take the very best type of naps (big hoodies, fuzzy socks, chilly eye masks, white noise apps). Naps can be well planned or caught on the fly waiting in a parking lot for my next appointment. Some are long and the very best part of a rainy Sunday afternoon. But my naps all have one thing in common…a twinge of guilt.

My head says, “People who nap are lazy, unproductive slugs. People who don’t nap are human versions of galloping rainbow unicorns who get all their work/volunteering/chores/super parenting accomplished perfectly and daily.” My heart says, “Maybe you should take a nap, hon.”

Now don’t get me wrong. I love productivity. Often the best part of my mornings involve making lists in my planner with little squares next to the jobs. The more boxes I check the more ‘rock star’ (read: personally validated) I feel.

But sometimes, LIFE. You know what I’m talking about. All of a sudden you’re facing a life tsunami and just trying to make a plan for survival. Tremendous energy and thought are flowing into that plan day and (sometimes) all through the night. You are seeking the advice of friends, mental health professionals, yoga instructors, kids in the nursery at church, anyone who will listen! It’s inescapable and upon you. The choices and the fear of making the wrong choice make you feel like you’re drowning. Pretty soon processing becomes murky and that massive headache you’ve been warding off is wrapping its chains around your brain.

I love my friends. Some have been encouraging me to engage in “self care” for years. Conceptually the idea sounds great (I’m sure the rainbow unicorn-ers have time for that) but I’m a “real” person with very little surplus time and if I have surplus time I’m looking for the socks that the dryer ate.

But my friends keep on and help me see that rough seasons require extra rest. For me that often comes in walks in the country, journaling or the delightful form of naps. I’ve come to the realization that while napping does not seem as productive as exercise or writing, it is just as helpful. My mind is cleared, my body recharged. Decision making seems less daunting and my art benefits. What is there to feel guilty about?

Absolutely nothing…nothing at all.