I recently scheduled a 24 hour stint alone, away from my husband and kids, to go camping by myself, and to sit along a Texas lakeshore doing absolutely nothing. This was the first such break I had taken in over 3 years like this, and to say it was past due is putting it mildly.

My husband actually inspired me. He’s in friend’s wedding next month, and will be taking 3 nights away to go to an out of town bachelor party. He told me that I need to schedule 3 nights away for myself, because he knew I wouldn’t do it of my own volition. He was right. So I put the dates on the calendar and stuck with them.

Fucking genius, that man.

While I was out there, I got a phone call from my Mom, who was asking if I could come in and do emergency shiatsu on my uncle who is suffering from ALS and was having some intestinal problems that the doctors’ evidently didn’t know how to alleviate.

I told her no.

I also sent her some guidance on some basic bodywork she could do for him herself. That seemed to work.

I would have helped in an instant if I had been in town, but there was no way I was going to sacrifice my mental health evening just to make him feel better. I mean, I love him, but.

The beautiful thing was — I didn’t even feel guilty about it. Instead I honored that my Mom has taught me, by example, that overextending to always take care of others first is a really terrible idea.

And she’s not even a pyromaniac kitten!