I’m tired.
I remember when I used to be able to function on two to three hours of sleep a night, but suddenly I’m at the age where my body demands a solid nine to feel great. The problem is that I usually peak at somewhere between five and seven. I don’t feel awful but can tell it’s 7 p.m. without looking at the clock because that’s when I get tired.
I started thinking about the depth of my tiredness the other day when I sat wiping the tears from my eyes when my daughter participated in the graduation ceremony at Girls’ State. There was no reason to cry. I wasn’t emotionally attached to the event and didn’t really even understand the significance of the week until the event. My daughter wasn’t winning awards or aging out, but there I sat, wiping tears, when it hit me: my exhaustion causes more of an emotional reaction from me than most other things in my life.
I quit my job in April due to a change in leadership. I was blessed to have enough of a severance package to hold me securely for a month, so I spent my days on the porch or at the kitchen table, idly cruising Facebook and finding ways to stay connected so I would remain relevant. The month wasn’t filled with days sleeping in because the kids still had school. There weren’t as many phone calls or Zoom meetings, but I still participated to make sure I held my place at those tables when I was back in the game. I did occasionally take a nap but mostly spent my days mentally wrestling with “what next.”
What didn’t change was the fact that I was still the only adult running the household and parenting demands escalated to new heights. Add to that the end of the school year banquets and ceremonies and the knowledge that I didn’t have a job and … well … it was heavy. I would say things like, “Oh, I’ve had a whole month off to recharge,” knowing I was lying. The most truthful thing I said in that month was that I had no idea how tired I was until I had nothing to do.
I don’t know of one woman in my life who doesn’t mention being tired. Either we’re tired from activity, work, parenting, cleaning, coping, stress or we’re tired in general. Women seem to always take the brunt of it. We care for our families, our jobs, our partners, our homes … it’s the way the world is designed. And then we add things to our plate like parent/teacher groups and church teams. Most women I know are constantly on the move in some aspect.
A business acquaintance has been out of the office for a week because her mother passed away and she is responsible for making the arrangements. At the end of her “out of the office” email, she says that she’s able to take the time off because she receives paid leave. In fact, she mentions that out of all of her siblings, she’s the only one who gets paid leave.
Reading that made me pause this afternoon. What would paid leave look like for all of us?
For starters, it’s a huge part of my family’s culture to care for family members. That looks different depending on who you talk to but imagine the difference in our lives if worrying about taking time off of work to care for someone we love wasn’t a part of it. What’s it feel like to know that you won’t lose your job or lose your income if you need time away to care for someone you love?
Paid leave includes a lot of things. It could be the fact that we face a definite childcare shortage. What if the necessary pieces were in place for us to be able to stay home and care for our kids when they weren’t able to utilize childcare? How much of workdays are spent thinking and worrying about our kids when we’re at work and they’re either home alone or staying with the only person available to watch them?
Women are used to being the caretakers. We are known for caring for and managing the lives of those we love. But yet here we are, accepting that paid leave is not the law and childcare is not widely available. We stand up and demand great care for our loved ones from others, so why are we so subdued when it comes to advocating for ourselves and what we and our loved ones need to be cared for?
Call your senators and tell them to support paid leave. Do it for yourself and for your loved ones.
Onward,
Amy Jo
