During the last several months, I have been blessed with the gift of time. I took a leave of absence this year so that I could ‘work on me’. I’ve somewhat affectionately dubbed it ‘The Year of Me’. It’s been both humbling, wonderful, and terrifying all at the same time. For a girl who is constantly on the go, has a to do list eight miles long, and wants to conquer the world, being faced with days that are largely unscheduled has been an experience. It has taken conscious effort to keep this time flexible, to build new patterns, to allow myself space to explore different things.
My natural tendency has always been to pack a million things into a day. To wake at 4 or 4:30 for early morning workouts and fill the hours between the end of the workout and bedtime at 11 or later with lots of checkboxes. While my job as a teacher allowed me to make connections with people, my students especially, I really never made time for others outside of what came naturally with teaching. I measured my day simply by how much I got ‘accomplished’, how busy I appeared to be, and how much more I’d found to add to my list. Kind of insane when I look at it written out like that.
During this ‘Year of Me,’ I’m working to change some of these habits and tendencies. To trade appearances for more meaning. It’s hard work to break habits and thought processes that have been ingrained for so many years. Many days I struggle when I look up and realize I’ve somehow wiled away seven hours of my day and have nothing ‘to show for it’. But I’m trying to measure my success by something different. It’s not how busy I look, or how much impact I can visibly see on my immediate environment. It’s not how many things I’ve crossed off my list or even how full my calendar is. It’s about what I’m learning. It’s about how I’m growing. Even if I have nothing tangible to wave around as a badge of honor.
So, I’ve been guarding my time fiercely. I’m striving not to fill it with minutiae, but to fill it with meaning. I still rely on my calendar to keep me organized and it’s full. It’s full of meeting people over coffee, hiking with dear friends and talking about life, hockey practices without a bag of grading and a chance to talk to other parents, volunteering, and regular FaceTime dates with friends that aren’t as close by but challenge me to be the best version of myself.
While all of this sounds dreamy, it’s also an effort. It’s an effort not to fall back into the minutiae that made me feel good because I could show anyone (because I’m sure so many were interested - ha, ha) how much laundry I’d finished, the groceries that I’d bought, the papers that I’d graded, the lessons that I’d developed, the meetings I’d attended or spearheaded, and the floors that I’d vacuumed.
Suddenly, I find myself trying to judge my worth, my contribution, by the meaningful connections I’ve made that day. Even then, I have to remind myself it’s not about how many, but the depth of those connections. I have to remind myself that it may even be a meaningful connection with myself as I read, study, write, run, whatever.