Stop feeling guilty taking time for yourself

Take that time.

I’ve struggled for a long time with feeling guilty about taking time to myself. This past Sunday, I decided to change that.

The older I get, the more I’m learning that I’ve been people pleasing for most of my life. My authenticity was buried along with my memories. In my first marriage, anything that I wanted to do for myself was shut down, judged, and berated. Writing? What a waste. Going and spending time alone? How dare you be so selfish.

Those habits have apparently refused to die. Even though I’m with an amazing spouse that loves and encourages me, and especially that loves that I’m a writer, I still struggle. I’ve loosened the reigns on myself when it comes to writing — it’s something I can do on my laptop in the same room as my wife, or in the morning hours when the house is still — but I’ve been holding myself back from other journeys of self.

So much so, that if my wife is watching TV on the couch, I’ve felt guilty about the prospect of going to another room to play music or do something else for my own enjoyment. It’s no fault of her own. It’s simply my own brokenness.

Complicating the matter? My wife has been sick for nearly a year and a half. Her energy is constantly drained. I have found myself unwilling or internally unable to take time for myself out of the guilt I feel leaving her at home. It feels to me like I’m abandoning her. That breaks me.

I’ve started to identify this as a major problem.

I’m the type of person that craves creativity, expression, adventure, and exploration. I of course want to share anything that I’m doing with my wife, but if she’s not able to muster the energy, I also need to be okay taking some time to fill my own tank.

This last Sunday, I did that. And honestly? It was heavenly.

I took a book to a new coffee shop I wanted to check out, and sat and read for like an hour to an hour and a half. I lost track of time. After that, I went to a shop that sells used books and vinyl records. I thumbed through the album covers as the smell of dusty paper hit my senses like a drug. I bought a couple things for myself — two books, and two albums. I smiled more easily than I have in a while.

I still struggle some with guilt. Going and doing something that serves only me while she’s at home in pain flies in the face of how I’ve been conditioned. Memories of being called “selfish” and “immature” hurt like a wound that hasn’t fully scarred.

These soul excursions, these times that feed who I am, are something that I’ve been dearly missing. While I hope we can get her feeling better so I have my partner at my side to go check out art exhibits, or listen to music, or sit and chat over a cup of coffee, It was nice to spend time with myself.

I can’t encourage others to be themselves if I’m not doing the same.

Take that time for yourself. If Sunday taught me anything, it’s that investing in my soul woke up a part of me that’s been dormant. I need more of that.