A little me time please, and don't call me selfish

A little me time please, and don't call me selfish

That’s right. I am demanding some time for myself. Some time to accomplish things that I would feel so much better about myself having done. Like this, my 100th post on Chicagonow. So many things have been interrupting me lately that I have barely been able to blog, and when I have it’s been what I would think is mediocre at best.

I realize that a lot of it is my own fault. I can’t say no and I am easily distracted. But now, I want to take my life back.

I have devoted 25 years to marriage, kids and household. In that time I have gone through several career changes (oh Steven Jobs how I wish I had a millionth of your vision, focus and well…brains) and a thousand meltdowns. I am simply a married woman with children who has put everyone else’s needs in front of my own.

Over the years my brain has been packed with so many things other than my original plans, it’s hard to remember them. I’ve written of my need for adderall. Still need it. But I am convinced that if I were allowed the luxury of ME time on a regular basis, I would be able to accomplish so much more.

You see, I have dreams. I have visions. I’ve always had them but they have been shoved to the bottom of the pile of life. To the bottom of the pile of motherhood, wifery, working full time (my own business in these delightful economic times), bill paying, house cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry doing, and the absolute endless flow of “mom, I need this…” ¬†and “honey, can you take care of that”.

I wanted to be superwoman and do it all. I have rarely ever said no to anything my girls have asked of me. They are now 23 and 21. The oldest doesn’t even live at home anymore yet still I am taking care of things. The younger one is at college and from 10 hours away I manage to take care of many things for her.

I never used to do it with any feelings of resentment; it never bothered me that it was interrupting something I needed to do. Yet lately as I am about to turn 54, I have reached a level of intolerance. I want my life back. I want to work a full day without being asked to do anything for anyone unless it’s an emergency. I want to be able to sit down and write a blog without being bothered. I work out of my home; I shouldn’t have to leave to get work done.

I’ve made myself too indispensable, too needed. Yeah, yeah I’m a wife and mother and that’s my job. I get it. I do. But now I want to find my way back to who I was before all this. To the girl who had dreams and visions of being something far greater than a sales rep. Far more satisfying I should say.

I don’t consider myself selfish for asking for this. I’m sure there are people that will say I am and quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. This life of mine is not a dress rehearsal and I don’t get a “do-over”. The time is now and it’s a wastin’. I want to write, I want to paint and draw and sew and read and be funny and go to bed at night exhausted with satisfaction. I want to have just one major accomplishment outside of motherhood that I can feel at total peace with myself about having done. Maybe Steven Jobs Stanford commencement address really got to me as I heard snippets of it yesterday:

“For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”

This sent chills through me. This morning was too many days in a row I said no.




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