Sunday morning, half past nine in Germany. I just cleared the breakfast table and helped the kids dress, brush their teeth and do their hair. I also vacuumed, had a pocket money discussion and a teen crisis discussion. A few years ago I didn't do anything at this time. I only slept through my neighborhood noise. And even when I wasn't in the neighborhood, I felt completely at ease spending an entire weekend in sweatpants. Do nothing. A word that my head has deleted from active language use.
Is it the magic 30?
I think the talent for doing nothing has gradually disappeared. First it was a vague unrest after the third episode on Netflix, then the urge to at least fold laundry while sitting around and finally there was no denying it: I had become restless. At first I thought she had only caught me, this thing with the bumblebees in the bum. But then I suddenly saw them everywhere: telephoning, planning, folding, organizing, wiping, sweeping, caring, women. Quiet seems to be a luxury in the Ü30 league, which one apparently rarely affords. Being a woman and messing around ineffectively no longer functions as a station wagon after a certain age. While my husband can still relax on the sofa after work, I have mutated into an activity psycho. Even now, on a Sunday morning, I sit cramped between sofa cushions and see work everywhere, to dos and missed chances of ticking something off as done. It's stupid. I know that too. And yet I can't do it any better.
We are responsible for everything. Not.
Yes, there is a lot to do in the world. To be precise, more than we can ever do. But let's be honest: Even if we were sparkling clean and everyone had everything they needed, we would still think of something that needs to be done. Because we women – particularly vulnerable mothers – secretly impose responsibility for everything including world peace, we will never have the feeling that we are finished. Even if we have decided to become more relaxed, we keep a fixed yoga time in the calendar and plan fixed I-times. Relaxation as a to do. A nice try to trick yourself, but not really the solution to the problem. Because relaxation as a to do is not relaxation. It increases the pressure and wears us down even more. Especially if we don't make it and another checkmark is not set.
All the crazy demands on ourselves
I think the lack of time for ourselves is not at the root of the problem, just a symptom. The really bad thing is these crazy claims that we have absorbed in ourselves at any moment of mental contempt. We want to make a career and at the same time be the 50-year-old Swedish mom who bakes the bread herself. We want to go through the forest with the children and then make an autumn arrangement with them, by the way quickly writing 80 emails from the home office and then you need time and energy to annoy yourself because you are not quite so was careful at the moment as the deeply relaxed Uschi from the podcast preaches that. "Always be in the moment," says the. But we are rare there. We usually stick to our to-do list and are already planning the next 77 points in our minds, which must still be ticked off today. No time for the moment. No time. No time.
Just allow yourself again
Do I have a solution? I have a. The solution is: internal permission. Our brains don't tick that much differently than at 5. We used to secretly eat chocolate with a guilty conscience. With permission, it was much more relaxed. It's the same with relaxing today. If we have permission to do something good for ourselves by doing nothing at all, we can also enjoy it. And the good thing about adulthood is that you can give yourself this permission. You only have to think about it for a minute and it already seems clear: We are primarily responsible for ourselves. And we don't fucking do it justice if we keep rushing around and see all the wonders of the world as to do. Relaxation doesn't fit into the time window. I-time doesn't need a place on the calendar. We ourselves simply need permission. Giving it to us is perhaps the most important to do of the day.