When Caring for Everyone Else Isn’t Enough Anymore

I don't know about you, but I'm in the throes of change—navigating that midlife shift where things that once felt natural suddenly feel different. I've been feeling down when I get home from work. Typically, I'm the first one home, and I immediately start making dinner. It's second nature, like brushing my teeth first thing in the morning or buckling my seat belt when I get in the car. I walk in the door, put my stuff down, and start cooking. Pure autopilot.

However, these past few months, I've noticed a feeling of emptiness tinged with resentment while making dinner. I finally started exploring why, and it dawned on me that:

1.    I miss my kids. 

2.    I'm absolutely fed up with the constant dinner-making routine. 

Three of my kids are off at schools far away, and while I still have one at home, she is uber-involved, and I often only see her after dinnertime. She's very independent as well. So, while I don't do much for her, I make sure she has a plate made for her late dinner.

It's one of my remaining vestiges of caring for others.

Personally, I've never been one to fret over empty nest syndrome because I looked forward to reclaiming some "me time."

If I'm being honest, my feelings extend beyond just missing my children. I realized I immerse myself in caring for others, conveniently neglecting my needs and desires.

And did I mention that I'm sick and tired of making dinner after a full day's work?

What if I replaced this old, ingrained habit with something I genuinely want to do?

To be clear, this isn't about achieving some specific goal.

It's about rewiring my caregiving circuitry to include myself.

While I haven't completely stopped making dinner, I've started making some changes. I now attend yoga classes a couple of evenings per week. It's a small change, but it feels incredibly kind and self-indulgent.

And last night, I wrote this post. Writing to you all ALWAYS brings me joy.

The best part? No one is starving. It turns out others know how to cook, too.

I started to realize this wasn’t really about dinner. It was about noticing where I had quietly put myself last—and deciding, in small ways, to do something different.

Not all at once. Not dramatically.

Just… differently.

Regardless of whether you have kids moving out, it's likely that you, too, have often put yourself last. I hope this helps.

Because maybe it’s not about making a big change.Maybe it’s about noticing where you’ve been on autopilot—and gently choosing something different.

Even if it’s small.

Even if it’s just for you.