Saturday morning. 9:47 AM. I’m still in bed.

There’s nowhere I need to be. No brunch reservation. No event tickets. No plans that require a specific outfit or travel time or leaving the house at all, really.

This used to make me anxious. Now it feels like a gift.

The “maximize your weekend” trap

For most of my twenties, I treated weekends like a challenge. Forty-eight hours to pack with experiences, activities, social events. A weekend without plans felt like a weekend wasted.

I’d scroll through event listings. Say yes to things I wasn’t sure about. Wake up early to “make the most of the day.” Arrive at Sunday evening exhausted from the rest I was supposed to be having.

Looking back, I think I was afraid. Afraid of stillness. Afraid that doing nothing meant I was somehow less interesting than people with packed schedules.

What a boring weekend actually looks like

Let me describe last weekend.

Saturday I woke up without an alarm. Made coffee. Read for a while. Went for a walk around the neighborhood—no destination, no step goal, just movement. Cooked something simple for dinner. Watched half a movie before falling asleep on the couch.

Sunday I cleaned the apartment. Not deep-cleaned—just tidied. Moved some furniture around for no reason. Called a friend for an hour. Took a nap in the afternoon because I felt like it.

That’s it. Nothing Instagram-worthy. Nothing that would make for a good answer to “what did you do this weekend?”

But I felt actually rested by Monday. Like I’d had two days off instead of two days of a different kind of busy.

The pressure to perform leisure

Here’s something strange: rest has become competitive.

Check social media on a Sunday night and you’ll see adventures, projects, accomplishments. People went hiking. Threw dinner parties. Finally organized their closet with matching containers. Even relaxation gets optimized—bath bombs and face masks and “self-care routines” that look suspiciously like work.

I’m not judging anyone who enjoys these things. But I noticed that my own weekend choices were being shaped by what looked impressive, not what I actually wanted to do.

A nap doesn’t make for good content. Neither does staring out the window. Neither does doing literally nothing for three hours straight.

The guilt stage

When I first started embracing boring weekends, I felt guilty about it.

Sunday evening would arrive and I’d think: what do I have to show for this? I didn’t accomplish anything. I didn’t go anywhere. I didn’t “make memories.”

This passed after a few weeks. I started noticing that I was less tired during the week. Less resentful of Monday mornings. Less desperate for weekends to arrive in the first place.

Turns out, when you actually rest, you don’t need to escape your life as urgently.

When plans are worth it

I’m not saying I never do anything on weekends. Some weekends involve trips, dinners, events. Those can be great.

The difference is that now they’re choices, not obligations. I go places because I genuinely want to, not because I’m afraid of having nothing to report.

Last month, a friend invited me to a party on a Saturday night. I thought about it honestly. Was I feeling up for it? Did I have the energy? The answer was yes, so I went—and actually enjoyed it because I wasn’t running on empty.

Two weeks later, different invitation. Similar party. The answer was no, so I stayed home. Watched TV. Ate leftovers straight from the container. Perfect evening.

The boring weekend guide

If you want to try this, here’s what works for me:

Resist the urge to fill silence. When you wake up Saturday with no plans, your brain will try to create urgency. Ignore it. Let the morning unfold.

Stay off your phone for the first hour. Event listings and social media will make you feel like everyone else is living more interestingly. They’re probably not.

Have one or two low-stakes things you enjoy. For me it’s reading and walking. For you it might be something else. Easy pleasures that don’t require preparation.

Give yourself permission to do nothing productive. No errands. No life admin. Nothing you could put on a to-do list. Just… being.

Next weekend, try saying no to everything and see how it feels. You might hate it. Or you might discover what rest actually feels like.