Girl. They Offered. Give Them the Feet.

When Feeling Good Feels Unfamiliar

The Whole Woman annual series · Pleasure & Power, Week 5 of 12
We Live Whole Now: Building a Life That Holds You

Dinner is cooked. Everybody has eaten. Nobody needs a ride, a signature, or a last-minute trip to the store. You finally have an hour to yourself.

And now you don’t know what to do with yourself.

You’ve been talking about needing a break all week. Well, here it is. Sit down.

But first, maybe a load of laundry.

Or a quick email.

Or an argument with your man, because apparently peace needs a little seasoning.

Listen. Why are we like this?

The music is good. The food is hot. Your person is offering to rub your feet. And instead of putting those feet in that lap, you’re explaining why they don’t have to go to all that trouble.

Baby. They offered. Give them the feet.

I’m talking to myself, too.

Some of us can manage a household, build a business, raise the children, earn the degree, and pull a whole future out of circumstances people swore would bury us. But give us an hour with nothing to prove, and suddenly we need instructions.

We know how to work for a good life. Receiving the good in it? That can get complicated.

Because the minute we start enjoying ourselves, here comes the interrogation:

What’s being left undone? Who needs something? Have you even done enough to be sitting here like this?

There it is. The question underneath all the other questions:

Have I earned the right to feel good?

That’s what we’re getting into this week. What happens when the good thing is finally available—and you don’t quite know how to let yourself have it?

Did you suffer appropriately before ordering the good thing?

For some women—and yes, I am some women—pleasure has an approval process.

Have the children eaten? Is the house clean? Did you finish enough? Can you afford it? Will somebody think you’re doing too much?

And, of course: Did you suffer appropriately before ordering the good thing?

Read that last line again.

Because some of us will approve another obligation faster than we’ll approve our own enjoyment. Another meeting? Put it on the calendar. Somebody needs help? We’ll figure it out. An afternoon doing something we actually want to do?

Now we need supporting documentation.

By the time pleasure gets through the committee, the restaurant is closed, the theme park has shut down, and that hot, steamy session you could’ve had with your person has turned tepid.

The moment has passed. And you were present for all of it except the enjoyment.

Now, yes, we have real responsibilities. The money has to come from somewhere. The children need care. Time, access, health, and support affect what we can do. I’m a mother of six. You do not have to explain logistics to me.

But we need to notice when figuring out the logistics turns into putting ourselves on trial.

“What can I spend?” is a question we can work with.

“Who do I think I am?” Well. Who told you that you had to become somebody else before you could enjoy your own life?

You proved them wrong. Can you put the evidence down for an hour?

Some of us learned early that people had already decided what kind of women we were.

Teen mom. Single mom. Too many children. Too much mouth. Too little money.

Lazy. Unfit. Loose.

They had a whole story about us before we could finish telling our own.

So we got busy.

We outworked, out-accomplished, outbuilt, and outgrew what people expected of us. We earned the degrees. Raised the children. Started the businesses. Built lives people now admire, respect, and sometimes envy.

You thought I couldn’t do it? Here. Look.

And listen, I respect what it took to get here. Some of those accomplishments still make me stop and say, “Girl. You did that.”

But the proving can become a hard habit to put down.

We’re on vacation, answering emails. At dinner, mentally rearranging the budget. Sitting with someone we love while making a list of everything we’ll do as soon as we get up.

Even when nobody says a word, we can hear the questions:

While you were out enjoying yourself, what was being left undone? Who was being neglected? Have you done enough? Or are you just stealing time?

Stealing time. From a life we are working ourselves half to death to maintain.

Whew.

You and I both know this ain’t living. Not the way we want to live.

But knowing we need to stop and knowing how to stop are two different things. We’ve had years of practice keeping everything moving. Some of us barely know who we are when nobody needs us to do something.

That deserves our attention.

SIDE BAR: You Can Be Grateful and Still Want More

There may be moments when you look at everything you’ve built and feel guilty for wanting it to feel better. You might worry that asking for more ease, more tenderness, or more time makes you ungrateful for the life you have. Girl, listen. You can appreciate what it took to get here and still want a Saturday you don’t spend recovering from the week. You can love your people and want somebody to make you a plate. You can be proud of your strength and welcome a gentle place to land.

Let yourself want it. You don’t have to insult your life to ask it to hold you better. There is room for gratitude and desire in the same woman. There is room for you here, too.

Who gets a vote in your enjoyment?

When you sit down and the guilt starts talking, listen closely enough to hear what it’s actually saying.

Does something need your attention? Or are you worried about what sitting down says about you?

There’s a difference.

Sometimes we have dropped a ball. Sometimes somebody’s feedback points to a real behavior we need to change. We can own that. But a missed responsibility does not have to become a lifetime sentence of never enjoying ourselves again.

We can correct what needs correcting without accepting every ugly thing somebody has ever called us.

And we can ask whose standards we’re still trying to satisfy.

Who taught you that a good mother is always available? That being tired proves you’re serious? That a woman enjoying her body, her beauty, or somebody’s attention must be getting beside herself?

How much say-so do those people still have in your day?

Maybe you love dressing up, but you can already hear the commentary. Maybe you want an afternoon alone, but you’re afraid somebody will call you selfish. Maybe tenderness feels strange because you’re accustomed to being the one who provides it.

You don’t have to solve your entire history before you enjoy dinner. But you can begin noticing when an old judgment is making a present-day decision.

You can ask, “Do I agree with that?”

And give yourself time to answer.

You still get to decide what feels good

Now, before somebody takes this as permission to tell you to “loosen up,” let’s be clear.

You get to choose your pleasure.

You do not owe anybody access to your body, your time, your money, or your company because they think you need to have more fun.

A whole woman can say yes. She can say no. She can say, “I thought I wanted this, but I’ve changed my mind.”

She can also say, “I want this. I’m just new at letting myself have it.”

That last one might take a little practice.

Ask yourself: Do I want this? What feels uncomfortable? What would help me enjoy it?

Maybe you need more privacy. A slower pace. A spending limit that lets you enjoy the experience without worrying about tomorrow. Maybe you need an actual agreement about who is watching the children, so you can stop checking your phone every four minutes.

Make the adjustment you need.

You can learn what you like without pretending to be comfortable with everything.

Please don’t turn pleasure into another job

We can make enjoyment sound so elaborate.

Now you need a destination. A wardrobe. Reservations. A room with perfect lighting and no evidence that anybody has ever eaten crackers on the couch.

I like a beautiful experience. I am not here to argue against the trip, the spa, or the good sheets.

But if pleasure requires a production team every time, some of us will keep postponing it.

What do you enjoy that already fits somewhere inside your life?

An album you haven’t listened to all the way through in years? A meal you actually sit down to taste? Laughing with a friend who knows exactly why that story is funny? Something soft against your skin? A kiss you give yourself time to enjoy?

And yes, you’re allowed to want more than the little things. You want the vacation? It’s okay to begin figuring out how to take it.

For this week, though, let’s choose something close enough to reach.

Something you want. Something you can make room for without needing a second life to pull it off.

This week, let yourself have the good thing

Choose one pleasure you’ve been talking yourself out of. Then give it an actual place in your week.

Here’s how:

1. Say what you want. “I want to sit outside with my coffee.” “I want to dance.” “I want an uninterrupted hour with my person.” Name something specific enough that you know what you’re making room for.

2. Handle what needs handling. Check the time, the money, the care arrangements, and your own willingness. If something needs adjusting, adjust it. You’re allowed to make a workable plan.

3. Notice what you tell yourself. When guilt shows up, ask what it wants you to believe. Is there a responsibility you need to address? Or have you started arguing that you don’t deserve the hour?

4. Give the experience your attention. Taste the food. Hear the song. Let somebody be kind to you without immediately planning how to repay them. If you don’t like it, you can stop. You’ve learned something about yourself.

And please don’t grade your performance afterward.

You do not have to become excellent at leisure by Friday.

Just notice. What did you enjoy? What interrupted you? What would you want to do differently next time?

Maybe you discover that you love a quiet morning. Maybe you discover that you do not, in fact, enjoy the activity everybody keeps recommending. Maybe the pleasure itself was easy, but getting an hour to yourself required six negotiations.

That gives you something concrete to work on.

Build a life the pleasure can come back to

If you enjoyed yourself, can we put it on the calendar again?

I’m serious.

We schedule the appointments, the meetings, the pickups, and the deadlines. We know how to make room for what we believe matters.

Let’s practice including ourselves.

If you love dinner with your girls, start talking about the next one. If music makes the drive feel better, put on the music. If you can only enjoy time away when you trust the care arrangement at home, that arrangement deserves some planning.

And if every moment you want for yourself gets treated as optional, that deserves a conversation.

Building a life that holds you means paying attention to whether there is room for you to enjoy living in it.

There may be things you cannot change this week. There may be money to find, support to build, and agreements to work through. You can begin where you are and still name what you want next.

We live whole now.

With the laundry still in circulation. With goals we haven’t reached. With people we love and responsibilities we take seriously.

We practice letting enjoyment have a place here, too.

So this week, when the good thing arrives, notice how quickly you start explaining why you can’t have it.

Check what needs checking. Make the adjustment.

And if you want that foot rub?

Baby. Give them the feet.

Your next step: Choose one small pleasure you actually want and give it a realistic place in your week. When you get there, notice what helps you enjoy it—and what you want to change so you can enjoy it again.

A Few Questions We Need to Ask

Why do I feel guilty when I finally have time to enjoy myself?

Start by listening to what the guilt is saying. Is there a responsibility that needs attention, or are you questioning whether you’ve done enough to deserve a break? Those call for different responses. Handle the actual responsibility; examine the expectation that enjoyment must always be earned.

What if I don’t know what I enjoy anymore?

Try something small that interests you: a song, a meal, a quiet walk, a conversation. Notice what you like and what you would change. You can discover a preference without committing to a whole new lifestyle.

How can I make room for pleasure when money and time are tight?

Choose something that fits what you have available, then identify the support it requires. That might mean an agreement about childcare or a clear spending limit. A small pleasure can matter while you work toward greater resources and more room.

Does receiving care mean I owe someone something?

An offer of care does not automatically create an obligation to give access to your body, time, or attention. You can ask what is being offered, name your boundaries, and decide whether you want it.

What if an activity everyone loves does nothing for me?

Then you learned something useful. Your enjoyment does not have to match anybody else’s. Adjust the experience, try something else, or stop.

Looking for More?

Keep the conversation going:

• Why Strong Women Forget How to Receive — Explore the discomfort that can come with accepting help and care.

• The Grind Is a Hell of a Drug: Separating Your Worth From Your Output — Revisit the connection between constant work and proving your value.

• Ain’t Enough Ocean for All This — Consider what your imagined getaway tells you about everyday life.

Give the desire somewhere to land:

• Covet: The “Disrespectful” Health and Wellness Journal — Bring this week’s question to your journal: What do I want, and what would help me make room for it?

• Books, Bullets & Babies: Card Game (Wealth Edition) — Explore the deck as an invitation to conversation with your people.