Like sand through the hour glass - Make time for living

Playing catch-up
From the time I get up (Benjamin gives me a wake-up call around 5:30) until I fall exhausted into a stupor-like sleep, I play catch-up. The list keeps growing: Household chores, work responsibilities, writing, grocery shopping, changing diapers, and whoops, let's not forget about being an attractive, pleasant wife and maintaining a social life of my own! It's enough to send me screaming to the day spa in search of relief in the form of an hour-long full-body massage and facial -- if I had an hour.

I tried to wrest control over my schedule by seeking a newer, better, more efficient way of managing my tasks. I shelled out over $100 for a Franklin Planner, a heavy, stain-proof leather binder with lots of neat tabs and goal setting sections, each day laid out on its own page. The instruction booklet promised that by spending fifteen minutes each evening, entering the next day's schedule, I could sit back and relax as I effortlessly achieved my goals -- losing weight, creating gourmet meals, winning the Pulitzer Prize.

Day planner hell
Then reality hit. The leather binder, which may be stain-proof but is not baby vomit-proof, got buried under a pile of newspapers and unread magazines. The fifteen minutes allocated to daily planning was spent saying hello to my husband, wiping up doggy tracks across the kitchen floor, and opening the mail piled on my kitchen table. Oh well, the binder didn't fit in the diaper bag, anyway.

So what did I do? Cut some low-priority items off my list? Hire extra help around the house? Treat myself to that massage? No. I bought another planner -- a slim, lime-green Filofax. If nothing else, it had a spray-and-wipe cover and was a heck of a lot smaller than the Franklin, and the almost fluorescent color would make the binder hard to misplace. I invested precious hours copying the information from the Franklin Planner into the Filofax. I felt good -- for about a day.

Then I resumed not having enough time to even look at my to-do list, let alone set weekly, monthly and yearly goals. If I haven't got enough time to do everything I have to do today, how could I possibly justify spending the rare minutes I do have worrying about tomorrow? I continued to operate by the "squeaky wheel" method of time management -- whatever screamed, yelled, rang or stunk the loudest got my attention. Everything else had to wait.

This worked well for things like feeding the dog and changing the baby, but friends I'd meant to call, magazines I'd meant to read, changing the oil in the car - these I sacrificed in favor of the tasks my Franklin Planner instruction booklet called "urgent, yet unimportant." So back to Office Depot I went.

Too much to do, too many lists
I tried file folders and rewritten goal lists and computerized planners and family wall calendars. I scheduled and re-scheduled and planned and forecasted. But none of it gave me what I really needed -- not a better way of managing my activities, but another ten hours in the day. I finally concluded that my organization -- or lack thereof -- wasn't the problem. I just had too much to do.

My life essence seeped from me, stolen by hours of reincarnated laundry and gulped-down meals that no one really tasted. I was slowly sinking in a marsh of books to read, letters to answer, bills to pay, articles to write. I was so busy doing the things I thought I had to do in order to survive, that I lost my ability to really live.

So I've decided that enough is enough. It's time to cut back, to cut out, and to cut loose. I simply don't have the time to live this way anymore.

And "simply" is my motto from now on. Instead of finding a way to do more each day, I'm finding a way to do less -- by eliminating things unessential to my family's well-being, or to my happiness, and focusing on those events that really make a difference in the long run.

The beauty of white space
My family and friends laugh when they hear this. After all, I am the queen of extracurricular activities, a habit I adopted in high school and have perfected in the years since. Classes, functions, organizations -- I haven't seen white space in my daily calendar since 1984.

And I've made resolutions before. But this time I mean it.

I've learned my lesson -- no secret potions or planners will magically transform my 24-hour day into 36. To fit all the important things, I have to cut the unimportant ones and stop adding new ones. So here's to a new philosophy, one of simplicity, clarity and focus. No more added responsibilities or activities, no more saying "yes" to any opportunity that comes my way. No more filling the blanks in my schedule with yet another seminar/activity/club. I am going to enjoy that white space, allowing it to grow and to dissipate my stress.

Just the other day I read the description for a beginning meditation class. It explained all the damage that stress does to your body, mind and spirit. People who meditate, the flyer said, find that meditation is more than just another thing in their already-crammed life. Meditators become more effective, relaxed, and focused the rest of the day, thereby actually accomplishing more.

Sounds interesting. I've got some time Wednesday nights. I think I'll sign up.