Fighting for time, fighting for space, fighting for breath.
\Shortening work days, booking sitters for weekends. Realizing I need to pour into myself as much as I pour into my children.
Looking up times for the mall. Will I have enough time to shop at Marshalls if I add in the 25 minutes it takes to drive there? I only have the sitter for 3 hours and I have to make dinner before I go. Will I make it?
Falling into bed at night, disappointed. I didn’t make it shopping. Tomorrow is Monday. The weeks fly by like greased lightening. I can fight to carve time to go clothes shopping, but more likely it will have to wait until the weekend. Which means it will be another week of wearing socks with holes in the toes, yoga pants worn so many times that the spandex is loosening, sweaters on their way to threadbare.
Looking at the schedule over and over again, trying to find the life hacks that will get me to where I need to be. How is it that I can show up for my kids, my business, but I struggle to show up for me?
Celebrating small victories — I made my doctor’s appointment, I left work at 4 pm, I did boot camp on the gym. On my way out I told the instructor I’d ‘be back tomorrow.’ That was two weeks ago. But at least I made it that day.
I love puzzles. When I was newly married I would by 1,000 piece puzzles, dump them out on the kitchen table at the end of the day, grab the pieces, put it all together bit by bit, each piece snapping into place gave me a jolt of adrenaline.
But my schedule — single mother of three, owner of a rapidly expanding business, resident of a city that is always moving — the pieces aren’t quite snapping into place. But I fight, in the hopes that they well. And create a picture of balance with me and my health and wellness at the center.
Luv in Black and Black 