Do You Need Time?
by The Overbooked Life
That question—it’s a heavy one.
But it’s also the very heartbeat of this blog, The Overbooked Life. The name alone says it all: yes, I need time. Probably more than I’m willing to admit.
But time for what, exactly?
More time? Less time? Can we even control that? Could I steal time from one part of my day and give it to another?
We each get 1,440 minutes in a day. Most of them are already spoken for—scheduled, promised, and pre-committed days or even years in advance.
I work 11 hours a day, five days a week. That’s 660 minutes spent inside a building, “singing for my supper,” as my husband jokingly calls my sales job. Add an hour commute each way—another 120 minutes gone. That’s 780 of my 1,440 minutes already claimed.
That leaves 660 minutes at home.
But what do I do with those? Where can I take time away—or put more time in?
Of those 660 minutes, 480 are supposed to be for sleep. (Although, let’s be honest, half that time is just me lying there, trying to get to sleep.)
Then there’s about 120 minutes for getting myself and the kids ready for the day.
That leaves only 60 minutes—just one small hour—for everything else. A walk with the huskies. A rushed dinner. Maybe a few quiet moments before bed.
So here’s what my weekday looks like:
- 480 minutes for sleep
- 120 for the morning routine
- 60 for the commute
- 660 for work
- 60 for the drive home
- 60 for the evening
Every single moment—five days a week—is planned. Accounted for. Already gone.
So, do I need time?
Yes. I do. And I suspect I’m not the only one.
This is where mental health care—or just plain mental health time—comes in. We work ourselves to exhaustion just to make sure there’s food on the table, a roof over our heads, gas in the tank, and a little extra to keep the cycle going. And that’s before we even think about the endless “upkeep”: groceries, laundry, bills, appointments, errands, and everything else that quietly fills our weekends.
And somehow, in between all of that, we’re expected to work out, eat healthy, plan meals, attend school events, and still show up as super parents.
Sure, I technically get two days off a week—two sets of 1,440 minutes. But those minutes are quickly filled with the shopping, cleaning, planning, appointments, and long drives to drop off and pick up my teenager from her job an hour away. (Yes, she works with me.)
It’s not really time off. It’s just a different version of being busy.
What we truly need isn’t more hours in the day—it’s more time for ourselves.
When was the last time you did something just for you? For your partner? For your family—just for fun, with no plans or timers or expectations?
Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I did.
So here’s my challenge to you, dear reader: steal some time.
Don’t make it. Don’t plan it. Just take it. Borrow it from something else if you have to. Carve out a few minutes that belong only to you—for self-care, for stillness, for mental clarity.
Be the thief of your own minutes.
Our jobs are not our lives. They pay for our lives, yes—but we weren’t born to work ourselves to death.
We were born to live.
Until next time,
keep the coffee hot, the chaos manageable,
and remember—you’re not alone in The Overbooked Life.
The Overbooked Life 
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