Sometimes we burn the candle at both ends.
We get up thinking about what needs to be done and go to bed thinking about what we didn’t finish. Somewhere in between, we take care of our families, answer messages, handle problems, and try to keep the promises we’ve made.
Then something unexpected happens, and we make room for that, too.
I know how easily a day can fill up. Being a father, helping in the community, and continuing the advocacy work all matter to me. There are people I want to help and things I want to accomplish. Those commitments give me purpose.
But I’m also carrying grief. That takes energy, even when there is nothing on the calendar to show for it.
Since Tabby passed, I’ve been learning that getting through an ordinary day can require more of me than it used to. A memory can catch me in the middle of a task. A familiar item can stop me before I get out the door. Sometimes my mind is busy with everything ahead, while my heart is somewhere in the past.
And still, there is laundry. There are appointments. There are children who need their dad.
Life doesn’t leave much space between those things unless we make it.
That’s the part I’m trying to learn.
I can convince myself to keep going because there is always another good reason. One more person to check on. One more post to write. One more thing to get ready for tomorrow. None of those things has to be unreasonable on its own for the whole day to become too much.
Eventually, I notice it in my patience. In how hard it is to concentrate. In the way even a small decision starts to feel exhausting.
I don’t like reaching that point. I especially don’t like realizing that I’ve given so much energy elsewhere that the people closest to me are getting whatever is left.
My kids need my attention. I want to be able to listen when they talk, enjoy something with them, and have enough room in my head to notice how they’re doing. That means paying attention to how I’m doing, too.
Some days, slowing down might mean leaving a task until morning. Taking a quiet walk. Putting the phone down during dinner. Letting a moment be enjoyable without turning it into something I need to share or explain.
Some days, it might mean admitting that I’m tired and accepting help.
That last one can be hard when you’re used to being the person who shows up for others. But I know what it means to me when someone lets me help them. I’m trying to remember that the people who care about me deserve that opportunity as well.
I’m still going to care deeply. I’m still going to speak up, volunteer, and do my best for my family. I just want to do those things at a pace I can sustain.
There will be busy days. There will be times when something urgent needs everything I can give. I want to recognize the difference between those moments and the habit of treating every unfinished task like an emergency.
If you’re burning the candle at both ends, maybe you understand this feeling. You sit down for a minute, look around, and immediately see another thing you should be doing.
I hope we can both learn to sit a little longer.
Let the dishes wait a few minutes. Hear the rest of the story your child is telling. Take a breath before answering the next message. Give yourself a chance to notice what you need.
Tonight, I’m reminding myself that some things can wait until tomorrow.
And I need some rest before tomorrow gets here.