The Month Every Weekend Belongs to Someone Else

I was flipping through my calendar the other day and stopped. Every weekend this month had a little circle on it.

A friend's wedding, a family gathering, a visit to a friend who just had a baby. Counting them, I actually laughed. So this month's weekends aren't really mine, huh.

They're all good things. Things worth celebrating, and faces I've been wanting to see.

But here's the strange part. Even after a happy occasion, I come home in the evening and just sink into the couch. Still in my going-out clothes, for a long while.

It used to puzzle me. I was out having a good time, so why am I this tired?

Then it clicked — of course I am. A day spent showing up for someone is still a day that uses energy. Getting dressed up, traveling, smiling and chatting in a room full of people. Turns out a happy heart and a rested body are two different things.

So lately I prep for months like this a little differently. Nothing fancy — I just build small pockets of room before and after the day.

The night before, I lay out what I'm wearing and what I'm bringing. Gift and all, gathered by the door. That one thing cuts the morning scramble in half. When I'm not rushing, even leaving the house feels different.

The evening after, I don't try to do anything — I just lie down for ten minutes. Instead of switching straight into evening mode, it's a little window to let my body know I've actually arrived home.

And one more thing. I block off an empty weekend day on the calendar ahead of time. A day with nothing in it. Turns out rest only happens when it's on the schedule too.

This weekend I'm heading out early again. But everything I need is already sitting by the door, and a completely empty Saturday is waiting for me the week after next.

Thinking about that, I have a feeling this month will go by just fine.