Balance

Why does it seem like life is so difficult to balance?

I'm a single 30-year-old woman. I have no kids, and a job that affords me more freedom than most. Yet lately I seem to barely find time to do the things I want to do or live my life the way I'd like to live. This realization has led me to wonder how I will ever find the time I desire for myself again while in a relationship (knowing full well that this was a critical element missing from my former relationships.) I wonder, how did my mother do it? Did she do it? How do healthy, fully-developed women manage households, husbands, children, and careers all at the same time and not go insane? The answer is that most of them don't. Or more likely, they are not the 'healthy' 'fully-developed' 'emotionally satisfied with their lives' women I imagine them to be. Perhaps all women are just a little bit insane. Most men I know would agree. Could they argue, however, against their role in the cause? I am certain they wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

We've heard before that this problem of balance, particularly for women, is symptomatic of the society we live in: a society that demands more for less and always now. In an age where both time and products are consumable commodities, how do we take time for ourselves, take time for the people around us, and be the children, wives, mothers, friends, teachers, and homemakers that we are expected to be? How do we not just survive but strive to be better human beings? How can I take time for myself without taking it away from every thing and every one else in my life that demands it? (Surely this is not an unreasonable thing to desire out of life but, as most of us secretly fear, is the desire for a more fulfilling life at the expense of others somehow selfish??) And (should I venture to formulate goals for my own personal growth) how in the world do I prioritize and manage to find the time for them? And can I really afford to??

Though they are not particularly new questions and I offer no new solutions, these questions linger on the outskirts of my mind these days, and the only consolation I have to offer is this: the very act of making the time to think about this and write about it is a tiny gift I can give to myself. I have become very good at giving gifts to other people. I'd like to think I have a bit of a knack for picking out just the right gift for the individual. However, I have not yet mastered the skill of gift giving to myself, at least not on a regular basis. Oh I do it in spurts: the random pedicure/glass (bottle) of wine/brownie/pair of shoes I consume because 'I had a bad day' and 'I deserve it.' I operate in rewards bouts, or as they might better be called, relief bouts, as in: 'I've worked really hard on X, Y, and Z and this cookie is the only reason I'm not offing me or someone else right now.' It's not that there's anything really wrong with relief bouts. It's just that in this feast or famine type reality, these kind of rewards are short term in the relief they offer, and don't come from a place of positivity. They are often self-destructive in the long term (binging, whether on alcohol, food, or money, is never healthy.) So why is it so difficult for me to consistently reward myself for a job well done, for making good choices, or just being the kind of person I want to be? One answer might be that I have difficulty committing (time, energy, money) to myself. My sex and my profession dictate that I should put others before me. It seems selfish to do anything else. But here's my newly-discovered secret: Every time I give the gift of time, energy, or money to me (by spending it to take a yoga class, make a nutritious dinner, or see a play) as a reward for just being me, I create more of the type of me I want to be. I am kinder, more thoughtful, more generous, more organized and together than when I completely throw myself into being that someone I need to be momentarily. Spending time literally creates time. Because when I spend 30 minutes reading, writing, running, or whatever it is my soul wants to do, I don't spend two hours vaguely surfing the internet and checking status updates or drinking three glasses of wine because I need to numb my brain. I have more energy, better focus, and more drive to continue my pattern of healthy, productive choices. Of course I still run out of time. But I feel as though I am living my life, and not the other way around. And I remember that I have a choices in my life, that the way I live my life is my choice. No, I don't have time for every thing or every one and some things will be lost in the shuffle. This week I may decide to be the teacher I've always wanted to be, and next week I may be the socialite. But you know what? That's OK. Both goals are valid.

I think it takes a pretty well-developed person to be a 'whole' in a relationship. I am discovering that there are so many things about me I have yet to discover. I have learned to greedily consume this knowledge, to satiate this long-abandoned need, and because of this my goals are sometimes too broad, too vague, and too numerous: I want to be a runner, a yogi, to live a 'more healthy' lifestyle (both physically, mentally and spiritually), to build and maintain better friendships, to find that special someone. Even more frustrating is how conflicting these goals can be. When I fulfill my social goals by filling my social calendar, I am take away from my healthy living goals (social events nearly always involve alcohol. Sorry mom, that's just the way it is these days.) Both my health and my social goals take away from my lesser prioritized 'savings and debt pay off' goals, and as much as I know that in order to be successful in any of the areas I must write down (and thereby commit to) small, measurable objectives and track my achievement, the most difficult part about all of this seems to be to find the time to make a commitment to make a commitment. After all, I should probably be running/reading/writing/on a date/calling a friend or cooking myself a nutritious meal right now.

Part of achieving any goal is recognizing the obstacles you have to overcome. Time and money are obvious ones. But avoidance lingers there too. I can accept the idea of 'gift giving' to myself, but I have to admit that I have a real problem with the commitment/tracking part of it. Why? Probably because I am not truly committed to the idea of committing to myself. I'm not 100% on board. Letting go of who you have become (even to become someone better and stronger) is not easy. It requires admitting there were problems with the old you. It requires facing the fear of failing in becoming the new you. This is especially difficult because (happy or not) the old you wasn't so bad. You did ok with the old you. You were getting by.

I would like to think that committing to a program of self-betterment is a little like committing to a religion. It takes a lot of belief in something intangible. It takes trust. It requires you to accept the idea that your ultimate reward, your salvation, will be there at the end, waiting for you, even if you are not exactly sure what you are waiting for. It requires you to hold your breath and take a leap, despite your fear of falling.

I won't sit here and say it's worth it. No one can really, and frankly, I haven't committed to the idea completely yet. What I will say is this: The real question I have to ask myself, when it's all said and done, the only question there is really, is this:

What do I really have to lose?
The answer, of course, is me.