Dear time poor people

I don’t have time to write. 

This is what I used to always tell myself.

I’d promise myself…

I’ll write when:

• I finish training the new writer

• Mercury is out of retrograde 

• My pelvic floor is strong again

• I get done shuffling the kids to the 11,289 birthday parties 

• I get done listening to enough crime podcasts to fully understand if Tom Girardi is evil

Now, these are just a few of the lies I tell myself about why I wasn’t writing more. 

But I respect your time too much to list them all here.

My therapist – let’s call her Rose – has heard them all too.

And one day she got fed up with my bullshit and made me do this exercise.

It helped me make room on my plate for writing. 

I thought I would share it with you too. This time of year, we all feel time poor. I hope this can help you think about how you can carve out more pockets of time for your art this year, next year, and beyond.

So here’s $150 worth of therapy for you today. (You’re fucking welcome. ❤️) 

Okay, back to homework.

1. Go through this list of values and pick your top 5.

When Rose told me to do this, I rolled my eyes hard. For a split second, I thought, “You’re fired.” I’m never coming back. See ya, ROOOOOSSEEE.

Truth be told, I’ve done this exercise before, and it always felt like fluff or a way to procrastinate. It felt life coach or gratitude journal exercise-adjacent. 

But despite all my reservations, I tried this dumb exercise anyway.

And drum roll…

It helped me remember what matters. 

Cheesy, I know… But the truth is, we all need to be reminded of this now more than ever. We are all becoming little productivity robots, using AI to “optimize” every part of our lives. We are obsessed with checking boxes and winning at life instead of living it. 

So write your fucking values out, okay, Jessica! 😉

My values (for now) are:

Family

Creativity

Friends

Compassion 

Security

Now, go through and pick yours here. 

The second part of my homework from Rose:

2. Buy a physical plate.

Here’s an illustration of the plate I used.

It’s pretty, huh? (I work with some cool designers.) 

Next step…

3. Put sticky notes of all your daily tasks on your plate. 

My plate is just a little full, don’t you think?

Now it’s your turn. 

Finally…

4. Review your plate.

Do you have the stuff that MATTERS on there?

• Did you put reading Harry Potter to your daughter on your plate? Did you schedule in time when she can tell you before bed she’s scared she broke her “friendship?” 

• Is that creative project that reminds you you aren’t dead inside on there? 

• When’s the last time you forced your husband to watch The Real Housewives of Orange County?  

• Have you had a dinner date with your friend that makes you laugh so hard you pee your satin Abercrombie mid-life crisis pants? 

Now I’d like to say, when I looked at my plate, that I asked myself these hard questions.

But you know what I did instead? 

I went back to therapy a couple weeks later with my “plate results.”

And instead of saying, “Rose, you were right. I’m not living aligned with my values.”

You want to know what I said?

Can I buy more plates? 

My next questions:

Can I hire someone to hold my extra plates for me? 

As you can imagine, Rose laughed.

She responded by saying something like, “You could hire someone to hold more plates. But then you have to also manage that person holding the plates. That would be something you’d have to put on your plate as well.”

I smiled and tried to bite Rose with my eyes. 

The reality is…

I know I have too much on my plate.

I’m working on it. 

I’m still learning this lesson. 

But now I’m at least aware.

What Rose made me realize is I’ve been trying to HAVE IT ALL.

Not because that’s what I value or want but because it was easier than deciding…

It was easier than saying no or risking making the wrong decision.

I’m also learning that creativity, family, all of these things that matter to me NEED SPACE.

They need room to grow. 

If my plate is full, there’s no growth, there’s just a lot to hold. 

So, sure, I could hire some folks to carry some plates.

You could too. 

Or… 

We could stop treating our life like a Golden fucking Corral buffet. 

And just decide what we’d like on our damn plate. 

P.S. I’m obsessed with these artist-made zombie poodles plates… 

P.P.S. I love therapy so much. 

Here’s my favorite parenting therapists. 

• Dr. Becky (I get so much even out of her free Instagram posts.) 

• Mariel Benjamin is who I’ve done Zoom sessions with when I have questions about parenting the girls. (She’s a facilitator at Cooper and has helped me become the mom I want to be. I can’t tell you how much I love her.) 

P.P.P.S. Also, if you want a deeper values exercise, this one from Brené Brown is pretty good.)