It’s Monday and a wave of guilt washed over me most of the day. Why? How much of this week’s paper is complete?

Answer: Not enough, but I’m not stressing, well, not much. It’s mapped out, just a matter of designing a few pages.

Why the guilt? Yesterday, I did nothing. And by nothing, I mean absolutely nothing.

The Dutch call it “niksen,” which means “to do nothing, to be idle.” Taking a timeout from a regimented schedule, carving time for oneself, isn’t being lazy. (Saying that one more time and louder for those in the back row). It’s about personal well-being, a way to disconnect and, for some of us, a means to get ourselves together. Now, I’ve got to get over those feelings of guilt. It’s a slow process, but I’m getting better at it.

My Sunday intentions were good. The to-do list in my planner included a list of five things to accomplish, and by all accounts, I was able to cross off three lines. Those items weren’t large in scope and they certainly didn’t have anything to do with my usual Sunday routine - knocking out several pages of the paper, sipping tea, reading the paper and having a heart-to-heart with Jesus.

I slept in, and by that I mean I was awake at 6:30 but didn’t exit from the coziness of the fuzzy blanket until an hour later.

Shower. Check. Brush teeth. Check. Brush my hair. Half a check. I kinda, sorta ran the brush through it and pulled it back into a ponytail.

I played Wordle and guessed correctly in four tries. I checked out a few episodes of “Swap Shop” on Netflix. A load of laundry got tossed into the washer. A Crockpot full of roasted broccoli, ham and cheddar soup simmered most of the day.

I wished Scott happy birthday. Thought about making a birthday cake or a pan of his favorite cookies, but that train didn’t leave the station. Other than leaving the house for a few hours to celebrate the occasion, nothing much was accomplished.

I didn’t respond to any email. I didn’t even charge my phone.

That’s okay. Some days, you need to recharge your personal battery, refocus thoughts, think creatively.

I’m not saying I solved the world’s problems by the time I slipped back into bed in time to watch the 10 p.m. newscast, but having time to relax and think things through, instead of making a snap judgment, felt absolutely wonderful.

I also know, though, that days like Sunday are few and far between. It’s the nature of the job, the fabric from which I’m cut, that drives me to give every single project I work on my best effort. Most times, that effort requires an 18-hour workday.

Some days, to be at the top of my creative game, I need time to center, crave time to be idle, time to breathe, even if it’s only for five minutes. To borrow a line from singer Anna Nalick, “Breathe. Just breathe.” That’s the key.

According to the American Lung Association, the average person breathes between 12 and 15 times per minute, which means approximately 17,000 breaths each day. That’s more than six million breaths every year.

As I’ve gotten older (maybe a little wiser), I’ve realized the importance of focused breathing and meditation, giving myself permission to just be. No expectations, no worries. Walk into my office most afternoons, around 2:30, and you find me with my eyes shut, mind cleared, doing nothing but being in the zone for five minutes.

When’s the last time you did nothing but exist, no deadlines, no schedules, no aimless scrolling on your phone?

It’s time to press pause, even if only for a few minutes.