For the First Time in a Long Time, She Says Yes to Herself

“You owe yourself one hour a day of self-maintenance. It can include reading, writing, yoga, exercise, dancing, meditation, painting, or whatever, but you owe it to yourself. One hour, 1/24 of your day. That is less than 5%. It matters, it really does. Make it count.” ~Sarah Brassard

The alarm rings at 5:45 a.m. She’s been awake for half an hour already, her mind running through everything she has to get done. Her son’s project is due today, her daughter has a well-visit appointment, and her inbox is bursting with urgent requests from work. She’s exhausted, but there’s no time to dwell on that.

She quietly slips out of bed and heads to the kitchen, careful not to wake her husband. The house is still, but her thoughts are already spiraling—her own silent storm.

She starts the coffee, opens her laptop, and immediately sees the email she’s been dreading. There’s another crisis at work that needs to be taken care of today. She checks her phone—texts from her mom asking for help with groceries, messages from her kids’ teachers about volunteering. She types “Sure, I’ll take care of it” without a second thought.

By 7:00 a.m., the house is alive with noise. Her son is whining about breakfast, her daughter can’t find her shoes, and the dog is barking. She rushes to keep everything moving while her coffee grows cold on the counter. “Mom, can you…” echoes through the air from all sides. Yes, she responds—yes to every request, every demand, as if she’s on autopilot. Of course she’ll help. Of course she’ll handle it.

In the car on the way to school, she’s ticking off her mental list: drop off the kids, hit the grocery store, squeeze in a work call before the dentist. Her hands grip the steering wheel a little too tight. She turns on the radio to drown out the rising panic.

At work, the day is a blur. Meetings she can barely focus on, emails she drafts with one eye on the clock. Every time her phone buzzes, her stomach tightens. Another person needing something. Yes, she types, even as her neck cramps from tension, even as the headache starts to pulse behind her eyes.

It’s 3:30 p.m. when she’s back in the school pickup line. Her phone vibrates again. Another work email, another urgent ask. Her heart sinks. She hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Her head feels heavy, like it’s too full, about to spill over. She’s scrolling through her phone when her son climbs into the backseat. “Mom, can we stop by Rocco’s house? I promised him I’d come over.”

“Yes, sure,” she says again.

Later, at home, it’s dinner time. Her husband’s late from work, her kids are fighting, and she’s trying to cook while answering another email on her phone. Her chest feels tight, like she’s barely holding it together, but she pushes through, as always. She has to keep saying yes. What happens if she doesn’t?

It’s 9 p.m. now. The kids are in bed. The house is quiet again. She sits on the couch, her laptop open, staring at the screen. Another request. Another task to be done. She hovers over the keyboard, about to type another yes, but she hesitates. Her hands are trembling, her body pleading for rest, but she’s forgotten how to give it to herself.

And then it hits her: she’s drowning. Not in work, not in tasks, but in all the times she’s said yes when her body, her mind, and her heart were begging her to say no.

She feels the sting of tears. She’s been running on empty for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to be full. She’s spent so much time saying yes to everyone else that she’s never left space to say yes to herself.

Her breath catches in her throat as she leans back, eyes closed, and lets the weight of the day sink in. For once, she lets herself feel it. The exhaustion, the resentment, the guilt that’s been her constant companion. And in that moment, she realizes something: It doesn’t have to be like this.

She closes her laptop. She picks up her phone and texts her team, “I’ll get to it tomorrow, but tonight I need to rest.” Send.

Her hands are still shaking, but now there’s a feeling of relief. She walks upstairs, past the pile of laundry she hasn’t touched, past the emails waiting in her inbox. She peeks in on her kids, watching them sleep, her heart full but finally light. Then, she does something she hasn’t done in years: she runs herself a bath.

For the first time in a long time, she says yes—to herself.

She is me. Is this you too? And is it time you said yes to yourself?