ASaturday Stolen
by: Ulysses Ybiernas ♦ June 16, 2008
What I crave is not escape, but stillness, the rare luxury of existing without being needed for a while.
Lately, my workplace has felt less like a place of stability and more like the center of an emotional storm. Around me swirl constant pressures, quiet disappointments, and an exhaustion that never seems to loosen its grip. Within that chaos, my own insecurities have grown heavier each day: the fear of becoming undesirable, the painful awareness of aging, and the relentless confrontation with my imperfections. Every thought settles inside me like another weight I can no longer easily carry.
As though that burden were not enough, financial strain has tightened around me as well, leaving little room to breathe. A close relative has thankfully stepped in to help ease some of that pressure, and I am deeply grateful for it. Even so, the relief feels temporary, like a fragile bandage placed over something far deeper than money alone can repair.
For days now, the combined demands of work and family life have drained me almost completely. As a single parent, exhaustion is no longer an occasional visitor; it has become a permanent companion. There is no true pause, no moment that fully belongs to me. Even rest feels borrowed, brief, interrupted, and never enough.
Weekends used to be my refuge. They were the only moments when I could slowly gather the scattered pieces of myself and recover from the emotional wear of the workweek. But now, even that small sanctuary feels out of reach. I recently learned that this coming Saturday, the one day I had quietly reserved for myself, will instead be consumed by a seminar titled “Delighting Customers.”
I understand its purpose. I know it is part of my responsibility and part of the expectation to maintain service, professionalism, and customer satisfaction. Yet somewhere beneath that understanding, a quiet question continues to echo inside me: when will someone remember the people who are doing the serving?
When will I be allowed to feel valued not for what I produce, provide, or perform, but simply for being human? When will I be given the grace to rest without guilt, to breathe without obligation, and to exist without constantly being measured by how well I meet the needs of others?
For so long, I have lived within a cycle of setting myself aside. I have prioritized the comfort and expectations of others, especially those with wealth, authority, and influence, people so accustomed to being accommodated that privilege seems almost natural to them. Somewhere along the way, I learned to treat my own needs as secondary.
But right now, none of those expectations feel meaningful anymore.
What I long for most is peace. Not achievement. Not praise. Not even escape. Just stillness. A quiet moment where the world asks nothing of me.
My weekend is more than free time; it is my only refuge. It is the one space where I can finally exhale, where I can begin to recover from the noise, the pressure, and the endless demands of being needed. Home has become my sanctuary, and lately, even sleep feels sacred. I would not resist it if it carried me through the entire day. In truth, I would welcome it, if only for the silence, if only for the temporary freedom of no longer having to hold everything together.
“Sometimes, sleep is not merely rest from life, but relief from the weight of carrying it.”
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