There are 24 hours in a day.

There are 24 hours in a day, and yet, I haven’t blogged in months.  #SorryNotSorry

in all honesty, life has gotten the best of me lately.  I have a new best friend who goes by the name, “Anxiety,” and after realizing that my most recent post was about my late grandmother, family issues and career failures have really got me feeling down.

I have been writing more lately, just not on here. Traveling to and from Boston for my Memere’s funeral inspired me to write more children’s books on the train. In my more recent down time, however, I even started working on my bridge novel.  I’m trying to write on my lunch breaks, and so far, I’m keeping pretty close to my goals.  I’m even thinking of taking a trip by my lonesome (sorry, Bobby!) to go somewhere secluded and just write.

So yes—there are 24 hours in a day, but this bitch is so busy that I can’t find time for myself…

Which reminds me of one of my favorite past TV shows, 24.  Remember that one with Keifer Sutherland?  Each season was divided into 24 episodes, with each episode taking up an hour’s time in real time.  So technically, each season was the course of an entire day with some tragic event happening or being prevented by secret agent, Jack Bauer.

But here’s the thing…

I feel like every season could have been resolved in 1 hour or less as supposed to an entire fucking day in which Keifer’s character never apparently went to the bathroom.  Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating, but my point is that most of the reason why Jack Bauer was sent from person to person was because people would withhold information.  If both victims and enemies alike would have just shared what they knew from the start—everything they knew from the start—an entire season could have been over in less than an episode.

So my question is: why do we withhold information from ourselves?  Does anyone else feel like they do so much for other people that the 24 hours we have in a day leaves no time for what WE want to do; no time spent doing what makes US happy?

I‘ve been hearing a lot lately that we need to spend time on ourselves. From my friends. From my family. From my therapist. Spending time on ME is not selfish—it’s as important as breathing!

So today I make a vow:  From now on, I vow to spend 24 hours a week on myself.

There are 168 hours in a week. I’m supposed to sleep an average of 8 hours a day, but let’s round that down to about 50 hours per week. Now I’m down to 118 hours. I work 40 hours a week. That leaves me with 78 hours.

Now, I’m sure between my daily commute and lunch breaks, shitting, showering, and, of course, bridge time on Monday evenings, I’m probably left with about 60 hours per week to myself.  So even if I take 24 of those hours for my own time, that leaves me with 36 hours for time spent with my husband, friends, and more. And if I’m smart and use my lunch time and pooping on the pot to my advantage, that gives me more time with others still.

I‘m ok with this.  24 is a lot of time for myself.  That’s only 3 hours a day.  I can play video games.  I can hunt for Pokémon.  I can go shopping.  I can write.  And if I don’t give myself enough time in a week, I can choose to give myself more time in the next. I’m just disappointed I haven’t thought about this before!

So what do you all think?  Will you join me in my new 24 hour investment in myself?

#24HoursOfMe