Jul 9th, 2026 Thursday Cloudy
Last Friday, there was a rare situation – I had a full day off work due to company holiday, while my husband, unwilling to further delay the advance on his projects, headed to office as usual.
Before departure, he asked, “what do you plan to do?”
I shrugged – I did not have an answer. I know that sounds odd for a big planner like myself, but for this one day, I had no list.
That felt…a bit weird, or rather, guilty. It felt like I would not be making the best use of my time. It felt like I failed to live up to the productivity ideal, that every moment should be filled with some activity and a purpose.
Laughably, I was a little afraid of this day coming so soon, as if I was not ready for it – in other words, I had not prepared an agenda, so I would end up wasting time!
It is ironic that I seemed at a loss for this “complete me time”.
Because we are too used to allocating our time for everything and everyone else.
What is “complete me time”? It is time truly at your own disposal, that you do not need to be accountable for anyone or anything but yourself.
Obviously, hours spent at work have nothing to do with it. Outside of work, various house chores take up the bulk (one may say that time belongs to the house), and plenty of leisure life involves family and friends. Even hobbies can be demanding, especially the active ones (e.g. I set out to finish four pairs of mittens within twelve weeks, which resulted in squeezing in knitting whenever possible; at times, it was stressful when the progress was slower than what I would like), for which some accountability remains.
On a day when nothing needs to be done, and even the “would-be-nice” lineup was empty (all were completed recently), I got to enjoy some precious complete me time.
After breakfast and my morning rituals, I tried a solo game called “a gentle rain”, which played like a meditation experience. Focusing on the layout of tiles, with no particular goal in mind, I was drawn into a world, a childhood flashback, where I was sitting by the pond near my home on a rainy afternoon, watching the droplets create wrinkles on the water. Occasionally, a frog leapt out. Lotus flowers bloomed here and there with a shy smile. Moments of serenity.
I ended up “not winning”, but who cares? There is no consequence, and I can try again the next time rain falls.
Later, I let myself relax, without setting up any objectives. I engaged in whatever caught my attention and interest, and listened to my body telling me when it wanted to switch to something new.
When my husband came home, he found me in good spirits, fully recharged, even though I could not name a single “achievement”.
And that is just fine. It is a gift, just for me.