How this woman had, RECLAIMED the RIGHTS to her own life, BACK, something we can all, learn from, as SACRIFICING ourselves, should NO longer be what we live, by…translated…
My time is, communally, owned, anyone can have a piece of my, time. Six in the morning, still early, before my alarm sounded, my brain was already, listing out my to-do list for the, day: breakfast, packed lunches, waking the kids up, signing their school assignment books…………all these things, became like invisible, thieves, silently, stolen my, minutes and, hours, away, leaving the room clean, those around me, full, and fed, but me, drained.
When had it happened, that my given name was replaced by “mom”, “wife”, my time became a communal property to help the family run functionally, on call 24/7, with the fastest response, time. Until one day as I stood in the checkout, the cashier asked, “what do you need?”, I’d, become, dumbfounded right then and there, for five whole, seconds, I’d become, needed by habit of others, and not known to tell what I’d needed.
what our lives, consists, of, photo from online, constantly taking care of our own, families, neglecting our own, selves…
That afternoon, I’d, decided I was going to, “steal time”. Not someone else’s, but finding the misplaced, tiny pieces of me, back, from the cracks in-between my household chores. First time I’d stolen was at 5:30 in the morn. The alarm vibrated gently, I’d slipped out of bed, like a sacred ritual, I’d gone to the kitchen sink, poured my self a cup of, coffee. All was silent, only the sounds of the water, mixed with the grinds, the aromas rose up. Not in a hurry to down the cup though, just, carrying that hot cup of coffee with my two hands, stood before the window, watching, the skies turn from dark blue, to white. In these thirty short minutes, nobody owns me, and I was returned back to the self that loved reading poetry, stared into space, the me that needed the, moments of, serenity.
That was, a lifesaving ritual to me. Like following the safety instructions on the flights, we need to put the oxygen masks on our selves, before we help someone, else. Those thirty minutes of alone time, turned me from “provider” into, the “alive”. Sometimes, I’d read a couple of pages out of that book, sometimes, doing nothing, just stared into, space, to slowly, savoring a cup of yogurt, with no, interruptions to me. This time became like an enchantment, to prevent me from evaporating into thin air in the day after day of, offering everything I have to my, families.
When I’d begun, “stealing time”, my family started learning to respect my boundaries. The kids found that mommy’s “coffee time” is sacred and inviolable, my husband came to understand, that the investment of those thirty minutes, he’d received my softer tone of voice toward him, and more clarity in my, eyes.
and this is, WHAT we all, need…taking the time needed, for our own, selves…photo from online
And now, I’d, understood, that it wasn’t my families that’s stolen my time away, but the me who didn’t, fight for my own rights, who’d been living on the tightened windup gears. The housewives don’t have a set time that they clock out, so we are in more desperate need of these, boundaries. Those thirty minutes I managed to steal, served as the life raft, the reset I need for myself.
If you feel that your times are also, ripped to, shreds, do be brave, and steal the time also. Between giving everything you are, and your “me time”, that period of time we’d stolen will become what helps us, survive.
Because it’s customary, that we women give everything we have to our, families, and to the point that we’d, neglected our own, needs, put others before us always, until we’d, crashed, and realized that we need to reset these, priorities, and we do, and it still might not go so smoothly as this woman’s experiences. Sometimes, we have to, DEFEND what was originally OURS, to NOT get taken for granted by those around us.
Mirroring the World 