This past week, as I was moving along, there was so much I was doing trying to make sure I was making time for my loved ones. At 2:30 in the morning, after dropping my daughter off, I thought I could go to sleep, wake up in a few hours as if nothing had happened, and just start my day.

When my alarm went off a few hours later, I asked myself: why was I pushing myself so hard? When would I just slow down and take some time for me?

So I did something different. I slowed myself down and decided to delay my start, to give myself an opportunity to relax. I actually joined one of the live workouts I'd missed, and I just took care of what I wanted to do. Nothing fell apart because I delayed my start and took care of myself first — and when I got off and made it home, I came home to a peaceful home.

I Was There for Everyone — But Me

As I struggled through what to record for Freedom Friday, I realized I'd forgotten I was supposed to pick something up for myself. I was looking forward to getting home so much that I genuinely forgot about my own plans.

This week, I didn't have someone to call to take care of what I'd forgotten. I was there, waiting to be there for others — and in that, I forgot about me.

That's exactly what happened to me this week. The pressure wasn't only coming from everyone else — some of it, I placed on myself, trying to make sure everyone around me had relief.

Breaks Can't Be a One-Time Thing

This week's Freedom Friday, I spoke about not waiting for the perfect moment. That relates here too. Sometimes we spend so much time taking care of everyone and everything around us that we forget to naturally check in with ourselves and our own needs.

The breaks I talked about last week can't be a one-time thing. They have to be something we plan for ourselves on a regular basis — not because rest fixes everything, but because I can't continually create relief for everyone else at my own expense and expect to keep functioning.

There's a passage I keep coming back to:

I don't think the answer is carrying no burden at all. I think it's asking myself whether the weight I'm under is even the one I was meant to carry — or one I made heavier myself, trying to perform for everyone else.