The phone buzzes. Emails stack up. Someone yells for help finding socks, breakfast, a lost form. You’re slicing strawberries for lunches, tallying the must-do list in your head, doctor call, work brief, pickup run, that birthday card you never sent. Four things cross off, six more appear. By noon you’ve checked a dozen boxes, most not your own.
Somewhere in that mess, you barely noticed your hunger or the throbbing behind your eyes. When did your name quietly slip to the bottom of your own list, mi amor?
It’s Not Just Busyness
Most of us build our days around what other people need from us, then cram our own needs—the yoga mat, the quiet coffee, the ten-minute window to breathe—in the leftover cracks. We inherited this. Somewhere along the way, someone taught us that love means putting ourselves last. That a “good” parent, partner, worker is always available. Maybe it was the way our mothers swallowed exhaustion with a smile, or the job that handed out gold stars for being reachable at midnight. This is how guilt worms its way into our bones, telling us it’s selfish to want what we need. But if balance means anything real, it starts inside. Your needs aren’t self-care luxuries, they’re the rubble and cement that keep everything else standing.
To-Do Lists Become Cages
I know because I lived in that cage. My calendar once read like a service menu for everyone but me. The kids needed rides, work needed fire-fighting, a friend texted with drama. By evening, my batteries were empty, resentment humming beneath the surface, never spoken, just swallowed. Sure, the day was “productive,” but I felt hollow. Here’s the invisible line we cross: To-do lists become cages when they only serve what’s demanded, never what matters to us.
Flipping the Script
So I started flipping the script. What if, instead of wedging your needs into gaps, you build your day around them—anchor first, then layer the rest? My first try was simple: I blocked 25 minutes every morning for quiet coffee before work calls. Phone off, nobody asking for anything. At first, I felt like a criminal. (“Indulgent! Lazy!”) But I guarded that time with the same fierceness I’d give a work meeting. And everything shifted, my kids saw me nourished, not brittle; my team got a leader who was present, not fried.
Try This
Try this: Before you open your calendar, ask yourself, what’s one thing that would truly restore me today? Not just “nice to have,” but the thing your body or soul is begging for. Sleep. A walk. Hot tea in sunlight. Alone time, laughter, unhurried chat. Write down one or two. Treat them as the backbone of your day—not afterthoughts.
The world can wait a little longer for you. Set a gentle, kind boundary: “I can help then, but right now I’m tending to X.” Yes, it will feel awkward. My first “no” to a midday favor request left an echo of guilt. But when the quiet settled, so did a deep sense of calm, a reminder that my worth wasn’t measured by availability alone. And here’s the trick: when you anchor your schedule around what truly matters to you, the rest finds its place. The list shrinks, or at least stops growing teeth.
So tomorrow, just once, scribble your name in at the top. Feel how everything reorders around a steadier, stronger you. Place a hand on your heart, even if just for a breath, and ask yourself: What do I need, really? And how can I make that non-negotiable, mi amor?
– Karla
