Time is a funny concept.
At times, it is our closest ally. On other occasions...our worst enemy. Our nemesis.
What does time mean to you?
Time is a paradox to me. I crave time alone, time to revel in the silence I so desperately seek each day. When I do (finally) grasp a pocket of solitude, though, my mind is instantly bombarded with thoughts of my children, my husband, and my infinite to-do list.
I instantly feel guilty about my time alone.
How can I be doing something for myself when I have four little children needing me, clamoring for their next need to be met...now? And what about that laundry pile...those bills...the grocery trip that needs to be made? And a thousand other tasks I must accomplish???
But as I settle into my little pocket of solitude, I begin to immerse myself in...well...myself. I begin to recapture my own sense of identity as I partake in "me" time, whether it's yoga, meditation, reading, or praying.
Losing myself in my leisure time no longer feels bad; in fact, it feels good...well-deserved and even necessary. Even though I must remind myself time and time again, I have to care for myself, too. I must nurture myself as I nurture my children.
Much akin to following the airline steward's advice of putting on my oxygen mask before I place it on my children, I cannot help them to breathe if I cannot breathe myself.
