Not My Time

About eight years ago I was having dinner with married friends and my at-the-time-boyfriend. We were talking about how hard it is to be married, what the day-to-day life can really be like, and how the relationship can suffer. Suddenly the wife of the couple blurted out, "Well! It's just not my time right now! I have two small boys, I don't get to do anything for myself and it's just not my time right now. I just have to accept that."

As I slowly inched away from her. I remember thinking, "What on earth is she talking about? It's her life, it's always her life, no matter what she's doing. Doesn't she know that?"

Oh the joys of judging others when we have no idea what we're talking about. Ignorance is bliss I guess.

Cut to: the other day I found myself staring at my larger sized body, my messy hair, my lack of make-up and thinking, "It's OK. My life is just on hold right now. I'll get back to all this stuff when the kids are older."

Have you ever had one of those moments of tunnel vision when you hear yourself say something, but it's almost like it didn't come from you? That's what that was like. I heard the words in my head, and then realized that I had actually heard them somewhere else almost eight years ago. But when I heard them before, they were coming from a disgruntled, exhausted young mother. So I couldn't possibly have said the same thing, right? Oh…no.

Terrific.

I've actually been living this way. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. I run past mirrors thinking that if I don't look, it can't possibly be that bad. On the days when I work from home, I don't get dressed — you know, because why expend the precious energy? I need that energy for so many other things that are much more important.

Besides, who's going to see me?

Oh, and the baby weight? See, I can blame that on the fact that I can't lose weight and breastfeed at the same time. I love how convenient that is for me. Donut anyone?

But it's not just about my physical appearance — though that's a large part of it. It's about this "Someday" thing. You know, the idea that I'll get to me Someday.

The problem is, the last time I checked, someday wasn't actually on any calendar. There is a Monday, and a Tuesday…and that goes all the way to Sunday. But I have yet to see a Someday.

Is that all I'm worth to myself? Thinking that I'll get to myself one distant day off in the future that doesn't really exist? Running by mirrors and wearing sweatpants every day because "right now" doesn't count? Right now isn't "real" because I'm taking care of other things. These days don't really matter.

Um, excuse me?

Who do I think I'm kidding here? These are my days. These are the days that I used to dream about when I was little. I have my beautiful house, my handsome husband, my wonderful kids — I even use all the Christmas ornaments I collected for far too long. This is it.

And still, I wait for someday.

Well, I've decided to declare today to be Someday. It's here. "Not my time" my foot. These days are just as real and as relevant as the days when I was living abroad, studying for exams, dancing on bars (I really have to stop saying that out loud) or spending my paycheck on clothes for myself instead of laundry detergent, life insurance and property taxes. This is it.

After all, no one ever says on her deathbed, "I'm so glad I ran around like a crazy person and ignored my own needs."

Here's to making this time our time.

Author: Sarah