Two days ago I was talking to my grandson and he asked me why I don’t crochet anymore. (I used to make him and his sisters hats and scarves every winter when they were young. He’s sixteen now.) I finally had to answer him with the words, ” I don’t know.” Truly, I can’t remember making a conscious decision to stop crocheting. Over the last several days, I’ve discovered I’ve stopped doing several things that I once enjoyed. As I investigated this idea of giving up things you enjoy without realizing it, I found that many of my friends and loved ones have done likewise. The running theme seemed to be, ” I don’t have time to do it anymore. With the job, the kids, the running around, something had to go.”

Those things that had to go were too often the things that helped us to relax, feel useful, feel a sense of fulfillment, and self-satisfaction. Everything from woodworking, sewing, gardening, arts and crafts, painting, needlepoint, collectibles, cook-outs, bowling, and myriad of leisure activities went away because of our busy schedules. Instead of being well rounded, we’ve suffered from schedule stress. (Love that alliteration.)

Who would have thought stress was related to our loss of leisure time activities. Psychologists tell us that children and adults suffer stress from overloaded schedules. Our to-do list have taken over our lives because we don’t schedule breaks or time-off; we don’t see leisure enjoyment as a critical need. Boy, have I been there! Before the pandemic, my schedule consisted of work and providing transportation for the kids.

Many days I left work on my way to the dance studio to drop off or pick up my granddaughter or to pick up my mom from the house to transport her to the store or church. I practically lived in my car. I ate meals in my car, I wrote poetry in my car, I made return phone calls in my call, I did lesson planning in my car, and I took naps in my car. Needless to say when I got home the only thing I was in for was going to bed. This cycle continued day after day, week after week, month after month. It became the norm.

For many of us the pandemic changed all that, but for some heart attack, stroke, exhaustion, depression, and emotional strain was the change agent. I’ve actually heard some people grateful for the break that the Pandemic gave them from the “rat race.” Now that’s sad, yet it does offer all of us an opportunity to reevaluate our schedules. Our time and our priorities should correlate with our needs and our necessities as social beings. Needs meaning the material and physical requirements for living, and necessities meaning our relationships, spiritual, and personal growth.

Establishing routines and reclaiming our time and talents is possible now. As we head back to work, we can begin setting our schedules to include every part of our being. As I have written in the past, I make an effort to “fill my bucket” with things that bring me joy. I may not crochet in the near future, but it won’t be because I don’t have time for it. It will be because I’m doing something else that relaxes me, fulfills me, or brings me satisfaction. The rat race can not longer be my norm. Life is too short. (Another lesson from the pandemic.) No more living in my car. No more over-scheduling myself and my family members, No more saying “yes” to everyone except myself. No more saying “no” to the things that matter. I won’t miss living a well-rounded life because I’m over worked and over taxed.

Let’s use these days of social distancing and quarantine to reclaim and redefine our time. Let’s begin prioritizing our lives so that we enjoy living rather than dread it. If I’ve learned nothing else during this time of pandemic, I have learned that the things I thought I couldn’t live without didn’t matter as much as I thought they did. Nothing matters as much as my family, and friends, and our well-being, and our being together safe and healthy. (Yes, that’s a run-on sentence 🙂

It’s your choice. What do you want out of the time you have? You can reclaim or redefine it in a way that makes you whole and joyful.