🕯️ The Sacred Hour: How I Steal Time to Write (Without Burning Down My Life)

Here’s a little secret: most of my writing doesn’t happen in some sunlit café with a flaky croissant, a steaming latte, and a playlist of French jazz serenading me into brilliance.

Nope.

It happens in between real life—in the thick of motherhood, full-time work, and laundry piles so high they qualify as modern art. It occurs after dinner, when the dishwasher is rumbling, the kid is finally settled, and everyone in the house is one Netflix episode deep. That’s when I slip away like a creative ninja, wearing fuzzy socks and my trusty hoodie, armed with a laptop and either coffee or wine (depending on how the day went).

This hour? It’s sacred. It’s not just about writing—it's about reclaiming. It’s the hour I get to remember who I am beyond the to-do list: not just Fabi the mom, wife, and manager, but Fabi the writer, the dreamer, the creator of words that sometimes hit deep and sometimes just help me survive the chaos.

Rewiring the Guilt

Was it hard at first? Oh, absolutely. The guilt? Thick. Like-too-much-yogurt-in-the-blender thick.

I’d hear the laugh track from the living room and wonder if I was selfish for disappearing into my office. I’d wonder if I should be folding laundry, watching the movie with them, or prepping tomorrow’s lunch.

But then I realized something important: I’m not vanishing. I’m right here. In the next room. Still present. Still reachable. Still me.

But I’m also a woman who needs a space to think her own thoughts. To feel her own feelings. To chase an idea before it slips away between homework reminders and bath time negotiations.

And by showing up for myself in this way? I actually show up better for them. More grounded. Less resentful. Fully me.

Building the Habit (a.k.a. Lowering the Bar Just Enough)

Writing didn’t become a habit by accident. It wasn’t some magical shift—I didn’t wake up one morning in a cloud of motivation. It took trial, error, and a lot of grace.

Some nights, I write a whole blog post. Other nights? I scribble three chaotic thoughts in my Notes app while half-asleep and drooling on my pillow. (True story.)

The difference now is that I show up anyway.

Here’s what my current writing rhythm looks like:

✍️ Daily 5-Minute Journaling: No pressure. Just a brain dump to clear the static.

📆 Content Planning: I map out blog posts and social captions during the week in stolen moments—while the oven preheats, or during lunch breaks.

📚 Weekend Deep Dives: If time opens up on a Sunday morning or late Saturday night, I go all in and let the words flow.

🛌 Late-Night Bedside Brainstorms: My brain doesn’t care about bedtime. So I keep a pen and journal nearby for those midnight lightning bolts.

It’s messy. It's flexible. It bends with my life instead of breaking me.

The Tools That Help Me Protect the Hour

Let’s be real: the hour doesn’t just appear. I have to protect it. Ruthlessly.

Sometimes I set a 30-minute timer and race against the clock before ballet pickup. Other times, I get an hour of uninterrupted gold because Richard takes Eliana out for ice cream. (Bless him.)

Here’s what makes it easier:

🎧 Spotify Playlists: Music is my portal. I choose songs that match the tone of what I’m writing—whether it’s emotional, playful, or just instrumental to block out noise.

🕯️ Lighting the Mood: I dim the lights or light a candle. It signals, “We’re creating now.” Little rituals, big results.

🚪 Closed Door Policy: I literally shut the door. Everyone knows: a closed door means writing time. (Emergencies still qualify. But snack requests do not.)

If You’re Trying to Carve Space for Creativity…

Here’s what I’d whisper to you, from one busy woman to another:

➡️ Be realistic. You don’t need three uninterrupted hours. Start with ten minutes. Then protect it like it’s gold.➡️ Set boundaries. Your time is sacred. Don’t explain it—own it.➡️ Be a little egoistic. Seriously. You matter. Your voice matters. And your family won’t fall apart if you take one hour a day for yourself.

This sacred hour? It’s not selfish. It’s life-saving.

It’s how I write blog posts, brainstorm book chapters, and sometimes just cry onto a journal page and call it a win.

Because when we give ourselves time to be whole—not just helpful—we ripple out that wholeness to everyone around us.

TL;DR: Creativity Is Not a Luxury—It’s a Need

This isn’t about productivity. This is about identity.

So whether you’re writing, painting, dreaming, or simply staring into space with a candle and your thoughts, know this:

You deserve your sacred hour. Not just because you’ve earned it. But because you’re worth it.

Even in fuzzy socks and mom jeans. Even with dishes in the sink.

Love, Fabi