I am relying way too much on Starbucks drinks right now for energy. At this moment, I could read a thousand motivational quotes and yawn.
I’ve been writing and promoting and learning new skills and serving clients and taking care of people . . . and I’m all pooped out.
At first, I felt horribly guilty about it all. Oprah seems to have my life times a thousand and gets it all done. Do I have my own network? Do I run multiple companies? No.
The only thing Oprah and I have in common is weight fluctuation.
So, I keep consuming Starbucks and moving forward, guilting myself into doing more work.
Today, I remembered a phone call with my daughter in New York, when I warned her about working too hard . . .
She said, “Don’t worry mom. On Saturday I slept until 2:00 p.m., got up, ate, and went back to bed and slept until morning. I get my sleep.”
“Wow,” I said. “I forgot about days like that.” Somehow they disappeared around the time same daughter was born.
I came home last week to find my son upstairs taking a nap after work. He woke up about 7:30 p.m. He was unapologetic about it all.
My relationship with naps started with the red and blue mat I carried under my arm to first grade. I remember lying down and thinking I’d never sleep. Then the teacher would turn off the lights, and the next thing I knew I was waking up sweaty but rested.
As a young adult, I substitute taught, worked as a waitress, would get home at 3:00 a.m., and then sleep for twelve hours. I didn’t wake up panicked (unless I missed a shift at work which did happen occasionally); I just did what my body asked me to do.
My excuse for naps today consist of sitting on the couch while feeling guilty about watching “Law and Order” so many times that I know exactly when the words “DIck Wolf” will appear on my screen.
My downtime makes me feel as if I am forgetting a deadline, or missing an email, or losing the chance to post a great Facebook comment.
I think I need to nap more. . .
Granted, I wake up from my naps like a bear from hibernation and literally growl at anyone who tries to speak to me, but my body appreciates it.
Vacation time is almost here, and I am going to fill that time with quiet, acceptable naps. I will doze off unapologetically while reading a book. I will drool on the pages and humiliate my children. But, by God, I will sleep.
Because it’s in the rest that we quiet ourselves enough to appreciate life. We let go of fear, and drift into a world where our subconscious mind can finally speak to us and send important messages.
The fact that in my last dream I was possessed by an alien from the Sigourney Weaver movie aside, our dreams often lead us into the places we are meant to go.
The art of the nap . . .
If you’ve lost the art of a nap, watch a child who dozes off in the middle of dinner. I mean face-first into his spaghetti. He doesn’t jerk up, appalled at the indiscretion.
Instead, he sleeps, inhaling noodles and hamburger. Because he’s tired, and his little body has declared the need for rest.
I’m not planning on falling asleep in my food, but I am going to let it my naps happen. I’ve let my body get too tired.
And sometimes the best way to power up, is to power down.
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