You are not your own.
If you've ever held a toddler while pooping, nursed while dusting, or awoken to a foot directly in your face, then you know what I'm talking about: You are not your own.
If you've ever rolled your eyes at pants hanging on the wall hook, wanted the car armrest to yourself, or have longed to just watch that dang chick flick on Netflix, then you know what I'm talking about: You are not your own.
If you've ever wanted to pick the happy hour spot for once, wished you could be the star instead of the wingman, or hoped to learn the ending of a book by actually reading it, then you know what I'm talking about: You are not your own.
And how often do we just yearn for these moments where we have our own blocked out space--physically, emotionally, spiritually? As a self-proclaimed introvert, I have learned that the best way for me to recharge is to carve out the coveted "me time."
If you've ever longed to be needed, hungered for human touch, or been excited to share your latest epiphany with someone who will listen and care, then you know what I'm talking about: You are not your own.
We are beings designed for community and connectedness. If we were created to live in love, it stands to reason that we need something--someone--to love. While a healthy balance in all relationships (friendships, marriages, parenting) is essential for the sake of, not only both parties but the functionality of the relationship itself, the point is we need it to exist more than we need our space. And though you can find yourself irritated over the tiniest things living in close quarters with a guy for the rest of your life, don't forget how your heart so deeply craved that simultaneous romance and comfort before he came along.
Then the kids. Oh, the kids. My kids and I have certainly had our fair-share of togetherness time in the past six weeks. We are attached at the hip all hours of the day while we adjust to this crazy new place. But come fall, it will be time to start talks and tours and interviews for sending Iris to school, and just last night I recounted to Trevor all the overwhelming emotions that brings with it. Can it really be time? Can't I just keep her here with me?
In the good times or the bad, it comes down to one simple fact: We are not our own. Even if we chose selfishness over love and skipped town leaving it all behind, the consequences of that decision would play out forever and ever, ripples effecting people we never dreamed might be touched. We try to live singularly and we cannot.
So whenever you feel yourself desperate for alone time, take it, for sure. But also remember that to not be your own means you are not alone, and we shouldn't want to have to go it ourselves.