In September, when all five of my children finally embarked on their full-day school journey, I found it hard to believe. For the first time in 17 years of motherhood, I was gifted the exhilarating freedom of 35 hours per week to myself. This was an opportunity I had longed for, a canvas of time stretching out ahead of me filled with endless potential and possibilities.
Throughout the years of raising little ones, I had managed to build a successful freelance writing career from the ground up. I balanced my work while pregnant and caring for my two young boys, and later welcomed two more children into our bustling home. My work-life often involved navigating maternity leaves that would leave advocates for women’s rights aghast. I was skilled at working in quick bursts, pulling off feats of creativity under challenging circumstances. Ever tried conducting a phone interview from the hood of a running car while your toddlers napped inside? Or negotiating a contract from a closet while your preschooler watched cartoons? I have.
With my kids now in school, I thought I would leave behind those frantic days of juggling and sneaking in work between family crises. I envisioned productive days filled with writing, networking, and perhaps even volunteering. Surely, the restrictions I had previously faced would dissolve with the newfound quiet.
However, reality turned out to be quite different. Instead of diving into my projects with enthusiasm, I found myself stalling. For the first time in over a decade, my motivation to write and blog seemed to evaporate. I would sit at my desk, hours of silence unfurling before me, and… nothing. Doubts crept in about my chosen career path, leading me to consider a “real job” that would require a professional wardrobe and a daily commute.
I thought maybe a break from work would clear my mind, allowing me to tackle household projects or indulge in some leisure. Yet, I didn’t excel in those areas either. Sure, I enjoyed a few naps, but the home improvement tasks I envisioned languished in neglect. Ironically, I ended up gaining weight since I exercised less than when I had a more hectic schedule.
At first, I was puzzled by this lack of productivity. I had finally received the time I had coveted for years, and yet I seemed to squander it. But after reflecting on my situation, the reasons behind my malaise became clearer. The constant demands of motherhood—balancing children’s needs and professional deadlines—while often stressful, had provided me with a structure and sense of purpose. It was this very chaos that kept my days focused.
As I adapted to my new reality over the past six months, I’ve gradually found my groove again. Writing has returned to my routine, and I’m working on getting back into an exercise regimen. I’m making a conscious effort to leave the house more often and have outlined a few home projects to tackle this month.
Perhaps I simply needed time to adjust to this new phase. I’m learning to embrace the ebb and flow of my workdays, recognizing that not every moment needs to be filled with productivity. I’m allowing myself to relax and not feel guilty about having “extra” time. This part-time empty nest has signified a shift; I no longer feel the need to maximize every minute. Instead, I’m learning to appreciate the calm pace, even when it feels unfamiliar.
After 17 years of motherhood, I realize I deserve this breather.
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In summary, transitioning into a quieter household has posed challenges to my productivity. While I initially struggled to fill my newfound time meaningfully, I am gradually finding my rhythm again. Embracing the slower pace and allowing myself moments of downtime has become a valuable lesson in this new chapter of my life.