What Happened When I Stayed in Bed and Did Nothing.

There is one place I like to be on Sunday mornings. This place is a three letter word. It is…my bed.

(Okay, two words and five letters in this case. And you didn’t even have to guess the word.)

I love my bed. And I love being in my bed on Sunday mornings. Here’s why.

My bed is a place where, if I let them, my worries melt into a fluff. My mattress holds the weight of my body, and my pillow softly caresses my mind. The sheets and duvet hug me close and keep me calm. Laying in my bed means I can fully relax. No cares. No responsibilities. Completely occupied with nothing.

You see, I’m a go-getter. Most mornings, I get out of bed, ready to start on a task list or off to plans, appointments, and a schedule. Most mornings, my bed was little more than a space for functionality, and my relationship with my bed, a transaction. (Must. Sleep.)

But not today. Today I stayed in bed. I woke up with the sun, as it gleamed it’s wake-up call through my window. But I stayed there. I did some reading. I did some thinking. And I stayed there.

In fact, I fell back asleep.

And then, a couple hours later, I woke up again. Rested. And I stayed in my bed. Reading, thinking, writing. Just, being alive, without the responsibilities of the day.

And you know what happened? Nothing.

Beautiful, glorious, underrated nothing.

Completely occupied with nothing.

The kind of nothing you daydream about when you’re in the middle of your back-to-work, Monday, where it’s hectic and loud and the deadlines reel in all demanding your attention. The kind of nothing you hope for by the end of a week filled with overexertion and overwhelm from the day-to-day over-packed schedule.

For us go-getters, there are only a few opportunities where we truly “allow” ourselves to do nothing. If you have the opportunity to stay in bed on a Sunday, don’t question it, just take it. And let your body thank you for nothing other than rest.

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