You’re not doing it wrong
Can we drop the guilt for a second?
If your version of rest this week included:
Scrolling in your car while hiding from your family,
Falling asleep mid-show with a snack still in hand, or
Trying to journal but ending up rage-cleaning your kitchen…
You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just doing it in real life.
We’re not aiming for perfect rest.
We’re experimenting: with what works, what doesn’t, and what surprises us when we least expect it.
Just like Sarah.
An excerpt from The Great Rest Experiment
The Accidental Nap That Changed Everything
Sunday afternoon, Sarah opened a thriller novel; an actual book with pages that turned. She settled into the couch corner, the one that was perfectly broken in from years of Netflix binges she no longer allowed herself.
Chapter Three. It was just beginning to get exciting when Sarah’s eyelids grew heavy. She fought it for as long as she could, her brain whispering ‘Just one more page’, before her head tipped back against the cushion, and the book slowly settled into her lap.
She woke to her cat’s purr vibrating against her shin. The book had fallen to the floor; its spine bent awkwardly. Sunlight slanted through the blinds; lower, more golden, like the day had shifted without her permission. Her phone displayed 4:17pm.
Shit. She bolted upright, heart pounding. What day is it? Have I missed a meeting? A call? The apocalypse?
Then she noticed her shoulders. They were not hunched around her ears like usual. She rolled them back; no grinding, no protest from the knots that lived there like permanent residents. Her jaw felt loose. When did she stop clenching it?
She stretched her neck left, then right. No creaking. No sharp pull down her spine. Her muscles felt as if they had just returned from a luxury spa retreat with complimentary upgrades and unlimited mojitos.
Her breathing, once her heartbeat had returned to normal, came easily and deeply. It was as if her lungs remembered they had a bottom half.
The cat opened one green eye and closed it again with feline smugness. Finally, that look said. The human has figured it out.
The most shocking revelation? The world hadn’t ended because she had taken an unplanned nap. No crisis happened because she was temporarily unavailable. Sarah checked her phone. Three texts, all non-urgent. No missed calls. No work emergencies. No ‘Mum, what’s to eat?’ from Tom. The world kept spinning while she slept on a Sunday afternoon like a normal person.
Her body just felt different. Loose. Cooperative. Like it had been waiting for this permission slip for months.
She stretched down, picked up the book, and found her page. The words blurred for a moment, her mind still lingering on the nap, the way her body had felt as if it had been reset.
She exhaled slowly and deeply, then continued reading.
What if rest didn’t need a schedule?
Sarah didn’t plan that nap.
She didn’t earn it with a clean to-do list.
She didn’t meditate first or light a fancy candle.
She just… dropped into it.
And when she woke up, the world was still turning, and her body felt brand new.
That’s the kind of rest this book is exploring.
Not the curated kind.
The accidental, imperfect, oddly healing kind.
This week’s experiment
Let rest catch you off guard.
Instead of planning it, notice it:
A deep breath at a red light
A moment of stillness before bed
The pause between sentences when no one’s talking
Again, you’re not doing it wrong.
You’re doing it differently.
And that’s where the magic begins.
Tell me, what kind of rest found you this week?
(Was it beautiful? Messy? Accidental and oddly life-changing? I would love to hear it.)
With gentleness and gold stars for napping,
Carolyn x