Because most men were taught that time for themselves is stolen time.
I felt this for years. Any time I took for me — to rest, to think, to do something I enjoyed — felt like it was coming from someone else's account. My wife's, my kids', my work's. Like I was taking something that didn't belong to me.
So I didn't take it. And the result was a man who was always running on empty, always giving, never refilling. And a man running on empty is a man who's one bad day away from collapse.
Here's what I had to learn, and it took a while: time for yourself isn't stealing from others. It's maintaining the thing they need. You are the thing your family needs most. Not your income, not your output — you. The actual, alive, present version of you. And that version requires maintenance.
I started small. An hour. A walk. A cup of coffee alone. Not to produce or plan or strategize. Just to be. And I noticed something: I came back better. More present. More patient. More me.
You're not a machine. You can't run without fuel. And the fuel isn't more work — it's space, rest, joy, quiet. Make the time. It's not selfish. It's necessary.
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