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There are days I wake up and forget to breathe.
Not in the literal sense, obviously.
But in the way that from the moment I open my eyes, my mind jumps back online before I have the opportunity to take a full, present inhale.
The invisible list starts growing faster than I can track it. The to-dos pile up before I’ve crossed any off from the day before. The stressors that took a minor vacation while my eyes were closed come back rested and ready to chip away at my nervous system.
And all this before my aching feet even touch the floor.
I’m a stay-at-home mom to a curious, chatty, fearless toddler, and a part-time work-from-home mom (and a dog mom). My partner travels for work often, so sometimes I’m also a solo parent. I spend my days handling life stuff (like cooking, cleaning, organizing, doing laundry, and walking the dog), fitting in frazzled workouts, struggling to make time for my job, stressing about my finances, and making endless mental lists of all the things that need to be done, should be done, and probably won’t get done, even though I’d like them to.
And at the top of the list of things that won’t get done when I’d like them to has been taking care of myself.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. I didn’t wake up when day and say, “You know what? I’d love to put myself last. I’d love to prioritize everyone and everything else until it dawns on me one day that I barely recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror. That sounds like fun.”
But that’s what happened—and until recently, I didn’t even realize that’s what was happening.
I thought I was showing up for my family. Handling my responsibilities. Doing what was expected of me. Except, there’s a part of me, buried beneath all the expectations, that just wants to rest.
Veg out. Bed rot. Slack off. Kick back. Lounge around.
I want space. Sometimes the physical kind, like an hour completely alone in my own home or a long, solo drive with no one asking me for anything. And sometimes, the mental kind, like 10 minutes of silence or a calm night spent watching a movie instead of working.
It seems simple. But anyone who is a parent and who works and who cares about people and responsibilities and goals outside of themselves knows, simple is rarely ever easy.
And so two days ago, I made a choice.
I prioritized a small gap in my day that was just for me. I left my house solo, drove with the windows down and music up, bought myself a new nail polish, got a pedicure (and long-overdue foot massage), ordered a pizza for pick-up, and sat in my car for 20 minutes scrolling on my phone without interruption.
It was glorious. It was self-indulgent. It was boring. And it was the space I needed.
When I walked through the front door, I literally said out loud to my family, “Momma feels like a person again.” And it wasn’t an exaggeration—it was a declaration.
It was the first time in months I felt human. Not like a mom or a partner or a maid or an employee or a robot going through the motions.
And so today, when I woke up feeling sluggish and unmotivated, I didn’t push through. I didn’t beat myself up mentally when my morning routine took a little longer than normal. I didn’t stress about letting my son watch an episode of Sesame Street while I ate the breakfast I DoorDashed. I didn’t feel guilty when I took an unintentional 10-minute power nap or stood quietly at my kitchen counter eating a Boston Kreme donut.
I know that not every day will be like this. That some days space will be hard to come by. That some days I’ll need to prioritize responsibility and expectation over pedicures and power naps.
But today, I made space for myself.
And that space allowed me to breathe again.
~
author: Nicole Cameron
Image: Ardalan Hamedani/Unsplash
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