My Solitary Hour
What I did when I wasn't "on", August 26-31, 2024
My health took a turn for the worse this summer, and I received official medical advice that I need to lower my stress levels. The prescription: an hour by myself to do whatever I want, every day, without anyone needing me.
“Time for myself” is the perennial struggle for fulltime caregivers, but I was amazed at how easily we fit this practice into the week once we all decided it had to be a priority. The best part? Since I know I’ll have an hour every day, I don’t need to use today’s hour in “the best way possible.” I can just use it how I need to use it for that day. Walks in the woods and reading feature heavily.
I always appreciate it when primary caregivers explain how they found time to have a hobby, film and edit a vlog, write a book, etc. Because let’s face it: you might be able to do a quick pilates workout or post to your Instagram with kids underfoot, but you’re not composing music or running a business without someone else watching the kids.
(Some people claim that they did it all just by getting up at 5 am everyday. These people are either outliers or liars. Don’t use them as a standard.)
I had an hour to myself for five out of the past six days because my husband watched the kids. He currently works flexible enough hours that this worked out for us; when his hours get more rigid, we might have to get more creative.
I feel like MYSELF. I still get my near-daily headaches, but I’ve discovered it is possible to have a good mood with a bad headache. I’m much more cheerful and ready to face the other twenty-three hours of the day.
At the end of each hour, I jotted down what I did. Maybe you could get some ideas about what might spark joy for you, or maybe you just like seeing how other people use their time (I confess that I love reading other people’s schedules just for the fun of it).
August 26, 2024 (an evening hour)
I read for 30 minutes from The Commonplace Quarterly, vol. 4, issue 4; a gift from my husband, I seldom have time to read from these magazines. They offer insight and inspiration for Charlotte Mason homeschoolers
I had a legitimate interruption to nurse a crying baby
I went outside and took some photos of the hibiscus in the rain.
I practiced reciting “The Quality of Mercy Is Not Strain’d” from The Merchant of Venice as I walked.
I ate a bowl of dairy-free pumpkin custard in silence.
I hand-lettered “Our revels are now ended,” one of Prospero’s speeches from The Tempest
August 27, 2024 (a morning hour)
bad headache, so I stretched, then laid down with a heated rice sock for twenty minutes, listening to Every Moment Holy
walked in the woods
did a cold plunge in the river at the place my daughter calls “Cascade Pool,” which is an 18” depe pool beneath a 24” waterfall. I had to lay on my belly to actually submerge myself. LOVED the cold plunge
strolled back down the millrace and sat beneath the old stone dam
it’s possible to have a rip-roaring headache yet be in a very good mood
August 28, 2024 (a noontime hour)
read from and finished my Commonplace Quarterly issue
read a chapter in How the Heather Looks by Joan Bodger. It’s a book about a 1950s American family’s literary tour of England, with an emphasis on the landscapes thta inspired the children’s books of Beatrix Potter, Kenneth Grahame, and C.S. Lewis
walked in the woods across the street, where we’d traditionally followed a trail past the place the town dumps their tree limbs and wood chips, eventually coming to more trails. In recent year, the town dumped so much mulch that the path was cut off completely. A few acres of trees were cut down to put in new Little League fields, too. (With Fanny and Cowper, I sigh about “ye fallen avenues!”) Must find alternate path to trails that doesn’t make me walk along the highway. I want my kids to share my childhood trails with me
August 29, 2024 (a morning hour)
I put on tall boots and decided to follow the river up past the mill race. I knew from 15 years ago that you could walk its banks until the river mets the main trails, but I wasn’t sure how much had changed. (It’s a heavily wooded area that floods easily, so fallen trees and eroded banks were a real possibility.)
It wasn’t that bad! I could stick close to the river and only had to scramble a few times. The boggy places made me seek higher ground, and a fallen pine tree was a major obstacle, but I realized I wasn’t the first person to walk that way: one of its branches was snapped, creating a small crawl space.
I finally reached the bridge after just 20 minutes of bushwhacking. I picked my way back the way I’d come, this time picturing how easily a small child could walk it. I broke more branches off the fallen pine. I’ll need to clear a bit more brush before kids can come.
I finished my hour with a cold plunge in Cascade Pool.
August 30
no hour to myself, but still a good day
August 31 (a noontime hour)
read from Commonplace Quarterly, vol 5, issue 1
planned and reflected on the week
interrupted by a crying baby
wrote this blog post
A Lesson I Learned
Writing and serious reading were not my mainstays for this week. The point of these hours was stress relief and having fun, not being productive. Interestingly, my stamina for serious reading and writing went up substantially by the end of the week.