Latest / She Survived: Stories of Courage, Recovery & Reinvention / Why Napping Is Rebellion: Reclaiming Rest From Hustle Culture | She Survived
Transcript
- I closed my eyes for ten minutes and felt like I was committing a crime against the clock. But maybe, just maybe, that nap is the most radical thing you’ll do all week. You know that feeling. You’re lying down, your head hits the pillow, and before your brain even registers comfort, it starts whispering accusations. Did you answer that email? Is the laundry still in the dryer? Are you wasting your one precious hour of peace while the world keeps spinning without you? I’ve been there. Oh, I’ve been there. For years, I treated sleep like a luxury item I couldn’t afford, or worse, like a reward I had to earn by being exhausted first. We live in a culture that worships the grind so fiercely that rest feels suspicious. It feels like giving up. It feels like admitting you can’t keep up. But here’s the truth I’m learning, slowly and with a lot of resistance from my own ego: taking a nap isn’t laziness. It’s an act of defiance. It’s you looking at the machine of productivity and saying, 'No. Not right now. My body needs to reset.' And I want to talk about why that 'no' is so important, especially when everything around you is screaming 'more.' Let’s be honest about what we’ve been sold. We’ve been told that human beings are like machines, if we just maintain the oil and push the button hard enough, we can output forever. But we aren’t machines. We’re biological creatures with rhythms, cycles, and limits that don’t care about your quarterly goals. When you deny yourself rest, you’re not being efficient; you’re being unsustainable. I remember a few years ago, during a particularly chaotic season of my life, I thought sleeping through the afternoon was a failure of character. I’d drink coffee until my hands shook and tell myself I was building discipline. But discipline isn’t about pushing past your body’s signals. It’s about listening to them. When I finally let myself stop, really stop, I didn’t find guilt. I found clarity. The fog lifted. The problems that seemed insurmountable became manageable again. That nap didn’t solve the problem, but it gave me the mental space to see the solution. Productivity culture wants you tired because a tired person doesn’t question authority. A tired person doesn’t notice the cracks in the foundation. A tired person just keeps working. There’s a quiet fierceness in choosing rest. It’s not passive. It’s active. It’s a decision to prioritize your humanity over your utility. In a world that values you only for what you produce, resting is a way of saying, 'I am worthy simply because I exist.' This isn’t new wisdom, but it feels revolutionary today. Think about how rare it is to see someone else napping without shame. Most of us hide our fatigue. We mask it with humor, or irritability, or frantic activity. But when you allow yourself to drop into that deep, heavy sleep, you’re reclaiming a part of yourself that belongs to you alone. No one can take that moment from you. No boss can schedule it. No algorithm can track it. It’s yours. And in those moments, you’re not a worker, a mother, a daughter, or a friend. You’re just alive. Breathing. Existing. There’s a profound power in that simplicity. It reminds us that we are more than our output. We are vessels of experience, of feeling, of presence. And sometimes, the only way to honor that vessel is to let it sit still. Now, I know some of you might be thinking, 'Gloria, this sounds nice, but my brain won’t shut off.' I hear you. Our minds are wired to anticipate, to plan, to worry. But here’s something fascinating about the science of rest. When you lie down and close your eyes, even if you don’t fall asleep immediately, your nervous system begins to shift. Your heart rate slows. Your muscles unclench. Your cortisol levels drop. You don’t have to achieve deep delta sleep to get the benefits. Just the intention to rest sends a signal to your body that it’s safe. It’s okay to let go. I used to think I had to fight for sleep, to wrestle my thoughts into submission. But that’s just another form of work. Instead, I learned to surrender. I imagine my thoughts as clouds passing overhead. I don’t chase them. I don’t judge them. I just watch them drift by while I stay anchored in my breath. It takes practice. Some days, the clouds are stormy. Other days, they’re light and fluffy. But the act of watching them, of being present with your own mind without trying to fix it, is healing in itself. You are practicing the art of being, not doing. This ties back to what we talked about last time with the houseplant. Remember how I said hope is a muscle built through small, daily reps? Rest is one of those reps. It’s tiny. It’s often unnoticed. But it builds resilience. Every time you choose to rest, you’re reinforcing the belief that you matter. You’re telling your inner child, the part of you that’s always anxious, always rushing, always afraid of falling behind, that it’s okay to pause. That you’ve got this. That you don’t need to prove anything right now. I started small. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes on the couch with a book I wasn’t reading, just holding. Then fifteen. Then twenty. I stopped apologizing for it. I stopped hiding it. And slowly, the guilt lost its grip. It didn’t disappear overnight, but it weakened. Now, when I feel that familiar urge to rush, to push, to perform, I catch myself. I breathe into it. I remind myself that the garden doesn’t grow faster if you pull on the sprouts. It grows better when you water it, when you give it sun, and when you let it rest in the shade. Your life is no different. Tend to it gently. Let it rest. If you’re listening to this and you haven’t taken a proper nap in months, or years, I want you to give yourself permission. Permission to be broken here, in this moment, without fixing it immediately. Permission to lay down. Permission to be unproductive. I know it’s scary. I know the voice in your head will try to convince you otherwise. It will say, 'What if you miss something? What if you fall behind?' But ask yourself this: what if you catch up with yourself? What if, by slowing down, you find a depth of connection, a creativity, a joy that you’ve been too busy to notice? I believe that the turning point was tiny for me. It wasn’t a grand epiphany. It was just a Tuesday afternoon where I decided to close my eyes and trust that the world would keep spinning without me for twenty minutes. And it did. And when I opened them, I was ready to face it again. So, I invite you to try it. Not as a chore, but as a gift. Give yourself the gift of stillness. It’s okay to be human. It’s okay to need rest. And it’s definitely okay to rebel against the idea that you must always be available, always be working, always be on. We are living in a time of exhaustion, but we don’t have to accept it as normal. We can choose differently. We can build a life where rest is valued as highly as work. Where silence is respected as much as speech. Where being is honored alongside doing. It starts with you. With your next choice to pause. To breathe. To close your eyes. It’s a quiet revolution, but it’s powerful. And you are part of it. You are part of a growing movement of people who are refusing to burn out, who are refusing to apologize for their needs, who are remembering that they are more than their productivity. So, take that nap. Take that walk. Take that break. Do it with pride. Do it with gratitude. Do it because you deserve it. Because you are worth the effort of caring for yourself. And because, in the end, the only thing that truly matters is how well you love yourself, and how deeply you connect with others. Rest helps you do both. So, let yourself rest. Let yourself be. Let yourself be beautifully, imperfectly, wonderfully human. Thank you for sitting with me today. Breathe into it. You’re doing better than you think. Until next time, I’m Gloria Henry, and I’ll be right here whenever you need to remember who you are. Bye for now.