Some people schedule their days to the nanosecond. The calendar app screams with reminders, while to-do lists multiply like bunnies, each item sprouting sub-items that somehow create an endless flow of “must-dos” that all seem to want to be done right now. If you’ve had a week like mine—one where every synapse felt like it was firing in overdrive just to keep the whole ship from sinking—then you’ll understand why I’ve got only one priority tomorrow: doing absolutely, positively nothing.

I know, I know. “Doing nothing” doesn’t sound like it should go on a to-do list. But hear me out. When I say nothing, I don’t mean the elegant, meditative, peaceful form of nothingness that’s often romanticized. No zen gardens, no self-improvement retreats. I’m talking about the gritty, unfiltered version of “nothing” that might very well involve staring blankly at a wall, without feeling the pressure to even daydream.

After a week that made my brain sizzle like a plate of fajitas at a chain restaurant, I’ve decided that my best self-care plan is to simply let it rest. No problem-solving, no strategizing the best way to arrange the spices in the pantry. In fact, I’ve banned myself from even creating a new list. “Take a shower?” Nope, no list for that. “Eat lunch?” Nope, not listing that one either. The moment a list forms, the day spirals out of control and we’re back on the hamster wheel.

You see, self-care is so often framed as an activity. “Go for a walk, read a book, treat yourself to a latte!” But sometimes self-care means the radical act of resisting productivity altogether. For a few blissful hours, I’m going to live my life without a checklist. That means no feeling of accomplishment at crossing things off, but also no judgment for the things left undone. That’s self-care of the highest order.

It’s also a small rebellion against the grind culture that tells us we need to earn our rest. It’s saying: “Today, I will do absolutely nothing, and it will be enough.” Yes, my body will still breathe, and my heart will still beat—automated tasks I won’t take credit for—while I stare at a wall or at the back of my eyelids. Maybe my mind will wander, or maybe it will just enjoy the silence of no expectations.

Tomorrow, I’m not looking to recharge my batteries so I can plunge back into the chaos of the week. I’m looking to let the battery run out completely—because some things are more important than efficiency. I want to honor the impulse to simply be, to float aimlessly for a little while without the guilt of not being “productive” looming over me. It’s a space where staring blankly is a victory and not planning the day is the plan itself.

So, tomorrow, if you need me, you can find me in my favorite chair, successfully doing nothing—because sometimes the best way to be there for everyone else is to first show up for yourself. Let the wall-staring commence.