Time to myself is a rare commodity. I am night-owl, it guarantees me time. This wins over sleep. I also take advantage of my commute time and use it in my favor. My morning commute is a bit crazy; I get the kids packed in the car, drive to one destination for the first drop-off, head back home, park the car, walk the nine year-old to school, then head to the “el”. It’s my favorite time of the day, I love that I am able to do this! But the minute I leave her in line on the playground it becomes all about me me me. My headphones go in, podcasts go on. Once I get on the train platform I take some time to read emails, peruse news, and read feeds while I wait for the train to arrive. On the train I read my book, the “el” is really the only chance I get to read these days. Needless to say, it takes me far too long to get through a book! Once I get downtown, I turn the podcast back on for my walk to the office. My commute home is much more relaxed, I only have to get myself home from work, so same rules apply. Walks are for podcasts, train is for reading
A bad day often lingers on my commute home. I try to rid myself of it on the way home, but it is not always possible. The time to decompress and have me time in limited. Using my commute home to catch up on my feeds, I often run across stories that slap me in the face with the reality of life (not to mention the shanty’s I pass). It reminds me what TRULY matters. This birth story that I read a few weeks back was one that did just that, and then some. It came to me at the end of what I thought was no a horrendous day. A beautifully told heart-wrenching story. It gave me much needed perspective to realize just how great any day is, good or bad. This story has stuck with me to remind me of what truly is important in life.