Latest / Still Standing: Stories of Resilience, Survival & Strength / The Radical Power of Rest: Why Napping Defies Hustle Culture | Still Standing
Transcript
- I put my phone face down on the kitchen counter and closed my eyes, and for the first time in years, I didn't feel guilty about stopping. That tiny surrender to rest felt less like laziness and more like a quiet rebellion. Take a breath with me. Just one deep inhale, and let it out slowly. We are going to talk about something that feels forbidden in our modern world. Something we apologize for doing, or hide from our friends, or justify only if it’s part of a 'wellness routine.' I’m talking about the nap. Now, before you roll your eyes or think I’ve lost my mind, hear me out. Because when I say nap, I don’t mean the thirty-minute power nap designed to optimize your afternoon productivity for your boss. I mean the real, unapologetic, heavy-lidded, drift-off-into-the-maternal-womb-of-sleep kind of rest. The kind that happens when your body says, "Enough," and your brain is still screaming, "But what about the emails?" For a long time, I treated sleep like a currency I had to earn. I believed that if I wasn’t grinding, I was failing. And I know I’m not alone in that. We live in a culture that glorifies the burnout. It sells us books on how to wake up at 4 AM, how to drink green sludge while answering Slack messages, and how to view exhaustion as a badge of honor. But here’s the thing about badges of honor: they’re usually just scars that haven’t healed yet. When was the last time you lay down without setting an alarm? Not because you were sick, but because you chose to? Really choose to? Let’s sit in that for a second. Think about the guilt. You know the one. It creeps in right as your head hits the pillow. A little voice whispers, "You should be calling your mother." Or, "Did you send that proposal?" Or, "Everyone else is working right now." That guilt is not natural. It is manufactured. It is a product sold to us by industries that profit from our inability to stop. If we stopped, if we truly rested, we might realize how much we’ve been carrying. And that realization is terrifying. So we keep moving. We keep scrolling. We keep saying yes. But taking a nap—really napping—is a revolutionary act. It is a direct refusal to participate in the machine that wants to chew us up and spit us out. It is saying, "My worth is not tied to my output." It is saying, "I am a human being, not a human doing." When I started practicing this, after years of corporate burnout, it felt dangerous. Like I was stepping off a cliff. But the ground didn’t swallow me. Instead, I landed softly. I woke up clearer. Lighter. As if some fog had lifted from my brain simply because I gave it permission to shut down. This isn’t just about feeling sleepy. It’s about reclaiming your nervous system. What did that cost you? That constant motion? That relentless drive? I want you to ask yourself that question today. Not tomorrow. Today. Look at your life right now. How many moments have you missed because you were too busy trying to achieve the next moment? How many conversations did you half-listen to because your mind was already three steps ahead? How many sunsets did you glance at through a rearview mirror? Taking a nap forces you to be present in the absence of action. It teaches your body that it is safe to stop. And when your body feels safe, your mind begins to heal. We often think of resilience as toughness. As gritting your teeth and pushing through. But true resilience is flexibility. It’s knowing when to bend, when to rest, when to retreat so you can return stronger. A nap is not a defeat. It is a strategic retreat into your own humanity. It’s where the magic happens. Where your brain processes emotions. Where your heart rate slows down. Where the noise fades into silence. In that silence, you remember who you are outside of your job title, your relationship status, your to-do list. You remember that you are enough, simply because you exist. We pride ourselves on multitasking. We wear our busyness like armor. But science tells us that multitasking is a myth. Our brains can only focus on one thing at a time. What we call multitasking is actually task-switching, and it drains our energy reserves faster than any marathon. Every time we switch tasks, we lose focus. We lose clarity. We lose pieces of ourselves. When you take a nap, you stop switching. You stop performing. You just... are. And in that state, your brain consolidates memories. It solves problems. It repairs cells. It prepares you for the next challenge. So, that nap isn’t wasted time. It’s investment. It’s maintenance. It’s the oil in the engine that keeps everything running smoothly. Yet, we apologize for it. We hide under blankets like we’re committing a crime. Why? Because society tells us that rest is lazy. But look around. Who is really lazy? The person who rests and returns refreshed, or the person who burns out and collapses? Who is really productive? The person who works eight hours with full presence, or the person who drags themselves through sixteen hours of zombie-mode? I choose rest. I choose the nap. And I invite you to consider choosing it too. I’ll confess something. Last week, I had a deadline. A big one. My inbox was full. My calendar was packed. And I was exhausted. I could feel the tension in my shoulders, tight as a drum. I knew I should push through. I told myself I’d work until midnight, then sleep. But my body rebelled. It forced me onto the couch. I fought it. I tried to read. I tried to write. But nothing stuck. So, finally, I surrendered. I closed my eyes. I set no alarm. And I slept for two hours. Two whole hours. When I woke up, the panic was gone. The urgency had faded. And surprisingly, the work was easier. I wrote twice as fast. I made better decisions. I didn’t lose time; I gained perspective. That nap saved the project. It saved my sanity. And it taught me a vital lesson: sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is do nothing. It sounds counterintuitive. It goes against every instinct we’ve been trained with. But it’s true. Rest is not the opposite of productivity. It is the foundation of it. Without rest, there is no performance. Without pause, there is no progress. We need to normalize this. We need to stop apologizing for our need for sleep. We need to start seeing it as the radical, beautiful gift that it is. So, here is my challenge to you. Tomorrow, or tonight, give yourself permission to pause. Not a quick catnap. A real one. Close the door. Turn off the lights. Let go of the guilt. Tell yourself, "This is necessary. This is holy." Lie down. Breathe. Drift. And if the guilt comes back—and it will—gently remind it that you are human. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to stop. You are allowed to be imperfectly, beautifully tired. And when you wake up, notice the difference. Notice the lightness. The clarity. The quiet joy of having honored your body’s needs. This is how we build resilience. Not by pushing harder, but by caring deeper. By listening closer. By showing up for ourselves with kindness. Take a nap. Reclaim your peace. And watch how your life changes. Because when we rest, we remember who we are. And that is worth more than any achievement. That is the revolution. That is the strength. That is still standing. Thank you for sitting with me today. I hope you carry this permission with you. Until next time, be gentle with yourself. I’m Marissa Davidson, and I’ll see you soon.