I gave myself the day off yesterday and did nothing. No work, no house cleaning, no writing, no blogging, nothing. I wagged!
Once I dropped the kids off to school I pretty much sat on the couch the entire day weaving and watching recorded episodes of The Bachelor, and Devious Maids. It was pure indulgent bliss.
It’s kind of funny when you think about it, because when I quit my job a year ago, I imagined that I would have plenty of time on my hands to do whatever I feel like, including nothing if that’s what tickles my fancy.
The reality is I have been busier than ever and I don't think I have actually taken a full day off other than Weekends and Christmas Day since we went to Bali last June.
That’s the thing about working for yourself or being a stay at home parent for that matter - you don't get paid holidays and you don't get days off. There is no one to fill in for you if you don't feel well and as much as I truly love doing most of the things I fill my days with, it made a nice change to just sit for a while and do stuff all.
The bit that bites when you take a day for yourself is the guilt that sneaks in and tries to ruin all the fun. It’s an annoying and constant niggling feeling like the one I had today. A little nagging voice in my head that insisted on reminding me every 15 minutes or so that really I should be doing something productive rather than watching drivel on TV and flicking through magazines.
Who IS that voice?
Is it our conscience?
Whoever or whatever it is, I want to punch it for interrupting the rose ceremony during The Bachelor. I had to rewind three times to hear what the rejected girls were saying as that voice was making so much damn noise in my head.
I wonder if it is because after working for 20 years for someone else, I don't know how to shake the feeling that someone else owns me for approximately 8 hours a day and every minute in between? I still get that naughty gal buzz when I take myself out to lunch with friends during work hours. It feeds my inner hooligan.
It’s kind of like the feeling you got when you wagged school. That stolen freedom…. although of course kids, Mummy never did that!
Does the guilt ever really go away or the feeling that we should be doing something? Or is it that these days we live at such a high speed day in and day out that we genuinely just don't know how to switch off anymore?
How do you go with switching off? Can you? Do you?