The Gift of My Time
Photo by Paul Kapischka on UnsplashAnyone who knows me well, knows I am an ardent fan of Brené Brown. Her book, “The Gifts of Imperfection,” changed me down to my DNA. The only other book that has come close to that same level of influence was “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle, but that’s another article.
Since reading “The Gifts of Imperfection” two years ago, I have made an effort to focus on how I spend my time. I, like most women, was raised to be a people pleaser. To be small and quiet. So it is no surprise that by the time I grew into an adult my time was spent pleasing and doing for others, (and definitely not complaining) at the detriment of my own health and sanity. I was trying to pour from an empty cup. Having three children in two years did not help matters either. I tried filling my empty cup with empty things, like binging TV shows and social media. I would binge sugary foods as a way to feel good, even just for a moment. As Brené described it, I was “armoring up and not doing the work.” Then I read “The Gifts of Imperfection,” and I was totally cured!
Just kidding, but it did give me the vocabulary to more fully express my feelings and offered insight into the motivations and actions of myself and others. Something I didn’t even know was missing.
Through the work with a therapist, antidepressants, and lots of time ruminating with myself, husband, and close friends, I found…me. I had not noticed the tiny parts of myself that had been chipped away. Slowly chipped away by abuse, the lack of a support system, low self-esteem, finding worth outside of myself, and the whiplash identity shift that comes with parenthood. After reading Brené’s work, I stopped looking out at everything and everyone else. Instead, I looked down at the ground and scooped up those jagged shards.
Now I know me. I know what I require to fill my cup, and I am not afraid to protect the time I need to do it. I need time to get outside of the house. Not to run errands, but to go for a walk or grab a coffee with a friend. I need time to write. Not because I earn any money from it, but because sharing Story is one of the things in life that brings me pure joy. I need time to sleep. A precious commodity only parents can really appreciate. I have to enforce a bedtime for myself so that I can fully show up for myself and those who depend on me.
In the end, I want what everyone wants. I want to be my best self. Being my best self sometimes means I have to say “No.” My priorities are the people I love and the parts of myself that need nourishing. Therefore, this is where I spend my time. If I have a full cup (and preferably a full cup of coffee), and if I have fulfilled my commitments, only then will I give my precious time away.
The Gift of My Time was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
