Most of us harbor interests, passions, and dreams that rarely see the light of day.

They lie dormant within us, beneath piles of obligations and expectations. Like relics of a past life, they collect dust at the bottom of our consciousness, fragments of nostalgia. 

If you’re anything like me, you’ve laid aside more than your share of interests.

Maybe you’ve even hit the pause button on your biggest dream. Not right now, you think. Someday I’ll have time for this again.

Military spouses navigate many busy seasons. Often the default parent, we give countless hours to the care of our children. We’re usually the ones that shuffle careers and struggle to find employment each time we PCS.

When our service member is gone for training or deployment, it falls to us to pack the house, get the records, ship the car, purge the belongings, and try to chart a new course.

Then after the PCS, we rush to make it feel like home. We visit all the attractions and play tourist in a new city. We bolster our kids, helping them acclimate to a new school and new friends.

We support our spouse as they figure out where they fit within a new command. We are the cornerstone of the nomadic household, holding it all together when our spouse is called away. Again, and again. 

So much responsibility falls to us. It falls and it falls, slowly covering those precious dreams that lie at the bottom, like a blanket of snow. I’ll get to it later. Things are too busy right now. 

Sometimes I look around, and it’s like shaking awake from a dream. When was the last time I wrote without feeling guilty about leaving other tasks unfinished?

The last time I settled down with a book and read more than 12 pages?

The last time I ran on a single-tack trail?

When did I last do something for the pure enjoyment of it, unrelated to anyone else?

For that simple joy, the thrill of a passion being relished, without the nagging worry that something “more important” should have taken priority?

The answer is simple, and stark: Too long ago.

Being able to stay home and raise my kids is the great joy and privilege of my life.

I never want to diminish the happiness that being a mother brings me, or understate the lengths that I would go to in order to keep them safe, happy, and fulfilled. 

But my own interests have largely fallen to the wayside, in favor of helping my kids find and pursue their own. 

Some would argue that’s the way things should be, and to some extent, I would agree with them.

My kids come first, in so many ways.

They rely on me a bit less now than they did in the very early years, and I know that in seasons to come I will look back and mourn their passing.

But even with that understanding, I still miss the parts of myself that lie untouched – like a silent guitar, its potential for music hidden until I finally move to pluck a string. 

This summer break, with both kids at home, I noticed that I was often more on edge; more overstimulated and exhausted by the end of the long day.

In the few moments of retrospection I could muster, I started trying to notice what else had occurred on those days, and to map out some kind of pattern. 

I found that the days I felt most annoyed, overstimulated, and tired, were also frequently the days that I did nothing for myself.

When I had skipped the gym, in favor of another activity.

When I had skipped the morning walk with the dog.

When I had skipped writing or reading time, for favor of scrolling mindlessly, my creative battery seemingly drained. 

On those days, I played with my kids, cleaned up after them, fed and cared for them, and successfully transported them to their various activities. But on those days, like a splinter that I couldn’t locate, something caused friction. 

You see, I’m not just a mom, or a Navy wife. I’m more than the sum of my adult responsibilities; I’m more than the cleanliness of my house, or the litany of tasks completed. 

Sometimes, I forget that. 

So I’d like to remind us all, myself included, to pick up the paintbrush. To bake the fancy bread. To go for that run, or to the hot yoga class. Go for the hike. Sit in the favorite chair, with the favorite mug, and the cozy comfort read. 

Too often, we act as though taking time for ourselves can only be achieved by withholding time from our kids. That indulging in our interests means we’re neglecting others.

But our kids need to see us with hobbies and passions. We should model how to balance work and play, so they can understand that some things are worth doing for enjoyment alone, and not measured solely by productivity. 

If you feel guilty about taking time for your own interests, that’s a big indicator that you’re not doing it enough. And I’m right there with you. 

We need to dust off those buried parts of ourselves. Let’s normalize pursuing our own interests in the same way that we protect those of our spouses and our kids. Because we deserve it, too. 

Editor’s Note: A great reminder Kaci, thank you for your honesty and your perspective. To read more of Kaci’s work, visit her M:M Author Page.