We try and do everything…for everyone, us women-folk do. We create time, to create time for everything and everyone else…at the cost of ourselves. At the cost of ourselves. The dirty secret no one tells you about adulthood is that there is and never will be ‘enough time’. This concept of making time is a fraud. I hate to tell you. The more time you make, the more time you think you need to make, and the more time you truly don’t have.

Let me explain it this way.

There are seven days in a week. Twelve months in a year. Fifty-two weeks in any given year. This standard of time does not change. It will not change. How much time is allotted, is all that will be allotted. You can never ‘create’ time. What we do is become better facilitators of that time, better stewards of it.

That reminder get lost in the pacing of this life, doesn’t it? All the weight we pick up, put down and lie about the weight of. We do it because…we have to, and ‘no one else does or will.’

In my day job, I see the wear of that pacing. In the hands of women that are my mother’s age and past. I see it in their eyes, their feet and smaller diagnosed parts of their bodies. Hearts. Eyes. Lungs.

I get to see what the result of the pursuit of creating time, making time, and racing it becomes. I get a window into what happens when that battery pack runs out. I get to see what happens when I say I’m okay when I’m not. I get to see what happens when that recharge is given to everyone else. When that strength, skill and resolve are given to everyone else. When the value I pour into everyone else is never put back into me.

I found out what happens when Wonder Woman can no longer be a wonder to herself.

I find out on a daily basis what the giving of self at the cost of self gives.

It is admirable what we as women do, and must do, and God has gifted us to do. It is remarkable. However, in the caring, and doing, and saving of others, we tell ourselves that we will ‘rest when I’m dead’ or ‘I’ll be off in the next few days’  or my favorite, “Just let me get through this shift and I’ll rest this weekend.”

Creating time. Making time. Not having time.

I’m learning that sometimes I have to be my own hero. I’m learning that I can’t to do it all, save everyone and be all things to everyone. I can’t, It’s not normal. I’m allowed to say what hurts, why it hurts and why I don’t want it to hurt anymore.

Supergirl is allowed to be a Kent– every now and then…



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