Enough

Enough. What is enough?
Recently, I’ve been thinking so much about this word. How much is enough? Do I feel full? Do I need more?

There are also a lot of “shoulds” around what is enough - from baby sleep to diet culture to screen time. Am I exercising enough? Did my daughter sleep enough? Am I drinking enough water? Am I doing enough at work? Am I reading and writing enough?

And it goes on.

It wasn’t until I was a parent that I realized how precious time is. I read on many working mom/women blogs that “time is our greatest resource.” I’m willing to bet on my life that every time I’m with my mom friends, we spend at least a few minutes in disbelief: what did we use to do with all that time? It usually comes up at the end of our conversations - after we’ve gone through the how are yous, how are they sleeping, how to make it through this next milestone-type of talks. We grasp our wine glasses. There is a long pause. One friend drops her head in her hands. Another tilts her head back, eyes closed. All of us gently shake our heads. I never feel as though I have a sufficient answer.

Funny thing is, I wouldn’t say I felt like I had a lot of time in my 20s and early 30s either. I remember distinctly feeling as though I wasn't accomplishing enough, doing enough. I didn’t own a home. I didn’t have enough credentials or money saved. I didn’t have enough friends or time off to relax.

I’ve started to wonder. Maybe we are all longing for more time - no matter our situation. Society rewards us when we aim for more. More money, bigger house, newer car, more kids, more shoes.

But more time. What does that look like? It’s actually quite the opposite of the things above. For me, it requires moving slower, wanting less. I have to prioritize what fills me up physically, spiritually, and creatively. Lately, it’s a recognition that there is a limit to the amount of energy I have to give. And that’s ok. I may want to do something, but I know I can’t. Because if I do, I’ll have little energy for my home and family and most importantly, me. It takes energy to be kind and loving and patient. I feel like I used to fake it better. To push myself to the brink. Then cry it out. Disappear for a day. And then give it 110% every damn day until it all crashed down again.

Now as a mother and wife, I feel more protective of myself and my energy. I value steadiness and a good night’s sleep. I’m so much more content if I have time to walk my dog in the morning, unload the dishwasher without resentment, go to church, and cook a Sunday supper. I know I’m not perfect. I don’t expect to ever be. But sometimes doing fewer, quality things… it feels more than enough. It feels like I have more time. And that’s enough for me.