If you’re in Melbourne right now, you probably also woke up to this cold-as-anything autumn Sunday morning.

Today, like so many times in the past, I tried to fight it. I got up, dressed, ready (for what, I’m still not sure). Sundays are like warm drinks — made to be taken slowly. But I still wanted to go out, to do something, anything. I wanted to be productive and not let this day to go to waste.

So I went out, briefly. Threw on my cosiest jumper that hadn’t seen the light of day since last winter, and braved the cold. I felt awful, but that was besides the point. I had things I wanted to get done.

Half an hour in it was clear those things may just have to wait. The cold had seeped into my bones, the sky was the perfect shade  of ‘dreary grey’. If I owned a paint shop, I would ban that colour. But obviously that’s irrelevant.

I came home, changed into my favourite trakkies and admitted defeat.

Instead I spent the day pottering around the house in my Uggs. Inspired by a recipe I saw on TV, I made a self saucing chocolate cake. It came out of the oven crispy and gooey and all round delicious.

I took a nap, watched mindless TV, started typing out this blog post. This laid back, do-nothing Sunday was exactly what I needed. And once I’d surrendered to it, I knew I couldn’t have done it any other way. Well, I could have. I could have let my to-do list rule my day, chasing one thing into the next, pushing myself until I only realised I was hurting after the fact.

Because here’s the thing: to-do lists are great and all, but sometimes they are made to be broken. Or delayed. Or deleted. Or shredded into tiny pieces and started over again from scratch. Sometimes life and needs and timing need to take precedence. And so often I only realise this once it’s too late, when I’m already too exhausted to think straight.

If I could do this Sunday morning over again, I’d give myself permission to relax, and permission to just be. I’d acknowledge all the things I wanted to get done, then I’d tell myself — maybe not today.

I’d listen to when my body told me it was tired, and I’d rest when I needed to, even if it didn’t make sense to my day or my schedule.

I’d get changed into my trakkies first thing, or maybe I’d never get dressed at all.

I’d make that chocolate pudding cake because wintery days call for that extra dose of warmth and indulgence.

I’d watch the mindless TV, maybe even still write a blog post, but no matter what else I did or didn’t do, I’d do it my way, and on my terms. I’d treat myself the way I’d treat someone I loved. I’d care about what I needed and when, and pay attention to it enough for it to be heard.

I’d tell myself — there is always another day. There will always be another time. Today is for taking it easy, and if I only do that I’ll be productive beyond words. I’d remind myself that life’s not a race, not some kind of obstacle course that needs to be ticked off along the way. There is no one judging or scoring my day — or my life — besides me.

Today is for living. It’s for breathing, and stumbling and catching myself all over again, through every minute, every hour. Today is for taking things one thing at a time, no matter how many things I’m hoping to achieve, or feel compelled to do.

I’d remind myself again: sometimes you need to slow down.

And that’s ok.