Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - The Joy of Missing Out (Encore)

Episode Date: November 20, 2025

Originally Presented as Season 12, Episode 31 Our story tonight is called The Joy of Missing Out, and it’s a story about recharging your body when your battery has run down. It’s also about frost on the windows, reading a favorite book snuggled deep under the covers, being honest about what you need, and giving others permission to do the same. Cured Dream Gummies: Visit ⁠https://curednutrition.com/pages/nothingmuch⁠ and use code NOTHINGMUCH at checkout to receive 20% off your order. Subscribe to our ⁠Premium channel.⁠ The first month is on us. 💙 NMH merch, autographed books, and more!⁠ ⁠Pay it forward subscription⁠  Listen to our daytime show ⁠Stories from the Village of Nothing Much⁠.  First This, Kathryn’s guided mediation podcast. ⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Get more Nothing Much happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories, and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love. Subscribe now. Have you ever wished you could visit the Village of Nothing Much? Well, this is your invitation. Join me, Catherine Nicolai, for a live virtual event on Wednesday, November 19th, at 6 p.m. Pacific, 9 p.m. Eastern. It will be a cozy night of storytelling, music, and calm. I'll share three handpicked bedtime stories, including one you've never heard on the podcast, brought to life with healing music from Aya Ayal, and sound designed by Bob. We'll pause between stories for guided journaling and creative moments to help you slow down, reconnect, and rest. And you'll receive exclusive extras created just for this event, including a brand new illustration from the village.

thoughtful journaling prompts, and a few playful surprises to enjoy at home. If you join The Dreamers' Inner Circle, you can stay for a cozy after-party where I'll answer your questions, share character updates, and reveal some behind-the-scenes stories that never made it into the podcast. You can tune in from anywhere, but it's one night only, so don't miss it. Go to pave.live to get your ticket. That's pave.e.org-l-I-V-E. You know how lots of sleep aids feel like they're doing something to you? You get knocked out and then you wake up groggy, maybe a little fogged, and somehow still tired? That's the problem with so many over-the-counter sleep products.

They override your system instead of working with it. The new dream gummies from cured nutrition take a different approach. They blend cannabinoids and botanicals, CBD, CBN, and a microdose of THC with Valerian, Passion Flower, and Camomile to teach your body how to rest again. It's not sedation, it's restoration. Dream completes cured's 24-hour rhythm, flow for focus, serenity for calm, and dream for true recovery. It's clean, plant-based, third-party test. and made to help your sleep actually work without melatonin and without the next day haze. I tried one last night. I slept great, slept longer than I usually managed to, and felt really, really good when I woke up. You can try dream now at curednutrition.com slash nothing much and use code nothing much for 20% off your order. That's c-U-R-E-D-nutrition.com.

Slash, nothing much. Coupon code, nothing much. Because you already know the value of rest. Dream just helps you find the deep part again. Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikola.

I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We are bringing you an encore episode tonight, meaning that this story originally aired at some point in the past. It could have been recorded with different equipment in a different location. And since I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different. But the stories are always soothing and family-friendly. And our wishes for you are always deep rest and sweet dreams.

Now, the concept here is simple, but tried and true. I'm going to read you a bedtime story. And just by listening to it, by following along with the sound of my voice, we'll steer you into a deep, restorative sleep. This is a sort of grown-up sleep training, and you'll notice that the more you do it, the faster you fall asleep or return to sleep in the night,

I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. Now, it's time. Lights out. Set aside anything you've been playing with or working on. And take a moment to prioritize your own comfort and feel how good it is to be in bed right now. Maybe this is a moment you've been looking forward to since you got up this morning. Well, now it's here. You are safe. You are done for the day. And I'll be here keeping watch as you sleep.

Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose. and sigh through your mouth. One more time. Fill it up. And let it go. Good. Our story tonight is called the joy of missing out. And it's a story about recharging your body.

when your battery has run down. It's also about frost on the windows, reading a favorite book, snuggled deep under the covers, being honest about what you need and giving others permission to do the same. The joy of missing out. We were a week or so away from things.

Thanksgiving. And it felt like Halloween was yesterday, and that Christmas would be tomorrow. As much as I loved this time of year, sometimes it seemed like a mad gallop, rushing from October to the new year. And I wanted to slow it down and savor it before it was gone. So instead of picking apples for next week's pies at the orchard or heading to downtown to stroll the streets and watch the shopkeepers put together their holiday window displays, or meeting friends coming into town for dinner, or a hundred other things that I am thoroughly fond of. I am instead relaxing into the joy of missing out. I realized this morning as I sipped my coffee in bed.

that my battery had run out. I just didn't have the energy to do today. And at first I resisted it, feeling like I should push myself up and into my clothes and out of the door. And that if I did, maybe I would, find the energy. But I realized, even if I did, I wasn't likely to find the joy.

I could put one foot in front of the other, but couldn't put an honest smile on my face. No, I needed a deep factory reset. And in the moment I surrendered to that, I felt myself relaxing. I hadn't even realized that I'd been wearing my shoulders like earrings, tensing against the day. As I let my shoulders and my guard down, I breathed deeper. I felt a warm thank you for listening from my body spreading through my limbs. I would make no plans today, and I would cancel the ones I did have. I drank till my cup was empty, pushed it onto my bedside table, and slid back down into

my sheets. They were still warm and puffed up from a night of sleeping, and I burrowed in till just my head was out. There was frost on the window this morning, and I spent some time just looking at it, watching how the light of the rising, sun struck and bounced off of it. I could feel that, given its struthers, my body would not have awoken this early, and that there might be a way back into sleep. I took my book from the table and curled up around it.

keeping as much of me as possible in my cocoon of blankets as I opened it and began to read. A memory from childhood ran through my mind. Of the first time, I read a whole chapter on my own. It had been a morning like this one, frost on the windows, and me tucked up in bed with a thin chapter book. I remember fumbling my way through the words I didn't recognize, sounding them out slowly but determinedly, until I turned a page and found a big two

marking the start of the next chapter. I had felt so proud. It felt like I had reached a turning point. I could read now, all by myself, and whenever I wanted. I thought of little me smiling at her book all those years ago and felt so tender toward her and grateful as I was still turning pages and enjoying stories

all these years later. My current read was one I read every autumn. It didn't matter if I was right in the middle of another book. If I had a tall stack waiting for me beside the bed. If the pages were starting to be dog-eared and the spine cracked, once it felt crisp and the leaves turned, I plucked this one from the shelf

and treated myself to a long dip into its world which was full of mystery and magic and near misses and impossible love as my eyes moved over the lines on the page I felt my eyelids drooping I kept sarting over, re-reading a line, opening my eyes again until I finally let the book fall onto the comforter beside me and drifted. I dreamt in a swirl of snow and colors, nothing concrete enough to form into a storyline. but with the atmosphere of Christmas

a sea of trees lit up on a mountainside and excitement and sleigh bells when I woke again I felt replete I stretched my limbs in bed and took deep breaths

at the window tying my robe around me I watched cars coming and going a neighbor wrapped in a huge parca with a scarf slipping down his back

was unpacking boxes of twinkle light and a whole herd of reindeer onto his front lawn. I smiled as I scooped up my cold cup from beside the bed and felt how lovely it was to be missing out on all of that today. In the kitchen, I started a fresh pot of coffee. and sprinkled a good bit of cinnamon in with the grounds. As it brewed, the house filled with the lovely,

roasty, sweet scent, and I sent a couple of messages to cancel the plans I'd had for that evening. I did it without the least bit of regret or guilt. just knowing I was doing what I needed to do to take care of myself the responses came back

with little hearts and thumbs up no one was mad no one was expecting more of me than I could give in fact one friend gratefully said she'd decided to stay home too

that I'd given her the nudge she needed to slow down that's the thing about just being honest about what you need when you do you give others permission

to do the same and we all get a little closer to having those needs met. I thought of things I might like to do while missing out. Watch old movies. Take a long, hot bath, fill up the bird feeders, do the crossword puzzle, maybe cook something or maybe just order something tasty that could be delivered right to my door.

That sounded like plenty for a full day of doing nothing much. Yes, before I knew it, I'd be putting up the tree, rushing to a holiday concert. making a New Year's resolution. Well, here was an early resolution I thought I might be able to stick to. Every now and then, when I felt the need, I would politely absent myself from the busy world. And remember how to rest.

The joy of missing out. We were a week or so away from Thanksgiving, and it felt like Halloween was yesterday, and that Christmas would be tomorrow. As much as I loved this time of year, sometimes it seemed like a mad gallop rushing from October to the new year and I wanted to slow it down and savor it was gone so instead of picking apples for next week's pies

Or heading to downtown to stroll the streets and watch the shopkeepers put together their holiday window displays Or meet friends coming into town for dinner Or a hundred other things that I am thoroughly full. fond of. I am instead relaxing into the joy of missing out. I realized this morning as I sipped my coffee in bed that my battery had run out. I just didn't have the energy to do today and at first i resisted it feeling like i should push myself up and into my clothes and out of the door and that if i did maybe i would find the energy

but I realized even if I did I wasn't likely to find the joy I could put one foot in front of the other but couldn't put an honest smile on my face no I needed a deep factory reset. And in the moment I surrendered to that, I felt myself relaxing.

I hadn't even realized that I'd been wearing my shoulders like earrings, tensing against the day. As I let my shoulders and my guard down, I breath deeper and felt a warm thank you for listening from my body spreading through my limbs. I would make no plans today. and I would cancel the ones I did have. I drank till my cup was empty, pushed it onto my bedside table,

and slid back down into my sheets. They were still warm and puffed up from a night of sleeping. and I burrowed in till just my head was out. There was frost on the window this morning, and I spent some time just looking at it, watching how the light of the rising sun struck and bounced off of it. I could feel that,

given its druthers, my body would not have awoken this early, and that there might be a way back into sleep. I took my book from the table and curled up around it, keeping as much of me as possible in my cocoon of blankets as I opened it and began to read. A memory from childhood ran through my mind

of the first time I read a whole chapter on my own it had been a morning like this one frost on the windows and me tucked up in bed with a thin chapter book I remember fumbling my way through the words I didn't recognize, sounding them out slowly, but determinedly, until I turned a page and found a big two marking the start of the next chapter.

I had felt... So proud, it felt like I had reached a turning point. I could read now, all by myself and whenever I wanted. I thought of little me, smiling at her book, all those years ago, and felt so tender toward her and grateful as I was still turning pages and enjoying stories all these years later. My current read was one I read every autumn. It didn't matter if I was,

right in the middle of another book if I had a tall stack waiting for me beside the bed if the pages were starting to be dog-eared and the spine cracked once it felt crisp

and the leaves turned I plucked this one from the shelf and treated myself to a long dip into its world, which was full of mystery and magic, and near-missus and impossible love. As my eyes moved over the lines on the page, I felt my eyelids drooping. I kept starting over, rereading a line, opening my eyes again, until I finally let the book fall onto the comforter beside me and drifted.

I dreamt in a swirl of snow and colors. Nothing concrete enough to form into a storyline. But with the atmosphere of Christmas, a sea of trees lit up on a mountainside, an excitement. and sleigh bells. When I woke again, I felt replete. I stretched my limbs in bed and took deep breaths.

At the window, tying my robe around me, I watched cars coming and going. A neighbor wrapped in a huge parka with a scarf slipping down his back was unpacking boxes of twinkle lights. The whole herd of reindeer onto his front lawn. I smiled as I scooped up my cold. cold cup from beside the bed and felt how lovely it was to be missing out on all of that today. In the kitchen, I started a fresh pot of coffee and sprinkled a good bit of cinnamon in with the

grounds. As it brood, the house filled with a lovely, roasty, sweet scent, and I sent a couple messages to cancel the plans I'd had for that evening. I did it without the least bit of regret or guilt, just knowing I was doing what I needed to do, to take care of myself. The responses came back in with little hearts and thumbs up. No one was mad. No one was expecting more of me. than I could give. In fact, one friend gratefully said, she'd decided to stay home too

that I'd given her the nudge she needed to slow down. That's the thing about just being honest. about what you need. When you do, you give others permission to do the same, and we all get a little closer to having those needs met.

I thought of things I might like to do while missing out. Watch old movies. take a long hot bath fill up the bird feeders do the crossword puzzle maybe cook something

or maybe just order something that could be delivered right to my front door that sounded like plenty for a full day of doing nothing much yes before I knew it

I'd be putting up the tree rushing to a holiday concert making a new year's resolution Well, here was an early resolution I thought I might be able to stick to. Every now and then, when I felt the need, I would politely absent myself from the busy world and remember how to rest

sweet dreams