A therapist shared the best advice she had ever gotten in a group therapy session, and it helped me reframe my priorities

• I've always compared myself to others and tried to do everything.
• But in a recent therapy group I went to, a therapist shared the best advice she ever heard.

I attended a group therapy session that began with everyone sharing the best piece of advice they had ever heard. One of the therapists leading the group shared hers: "You can do anything, but not everything."

Just a week earlier, I was laughing with my group of mom friends about how I could floss regularly or put on sunscreen daily, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't consistently do both. While I was able to laugh about it, this was a deep source of annoyance for me.

I've spent my life guided by a critical voice that always expected perfectionism. The voice even has a name: "Shitty Daria," which I'd come up with in my writing class. Shitty Daria has always ruled the roost, with snide remarks and unachievable checklists ringing in my head. Of course, I'd love to do everything the dentist, doctor, dermatologist, and meditation teacher recommend, but it just doesn't seem possible and leaves me feeling inadequate.

And parenthood? Well, parenthood includes perhaps the largest list of shoulds. Yes, my children should brush their teeth twice a day. I should encourage them to try new foods by describing the texture and taste instead of letting them subsist on their preferred diet of chicken nuggets for every meal. I should read all the emails the school sends and snuggle with my kids each night instead of giving quick kisses and flashing the peace sign as I bolt out of the room. But I simply can't do it all.

So when the therapist shared this nugget of wisdom, I felt a sense of relief as I realized the same philosophy holds true for just about every aspect of parenthood: I could make a homemade dinner, or my kids could have matching socks. I could work out, or I could spend 20 minutes drawing a cute picture to put in my kids' lunch boxes, but I can't always do both in one day. Time is finite, so what I can accomplish is also finite.

This advice helped me reorganize my priorities

"You can do anything, but not everything" is the perfect mantra to repeat when my brain veers down the mom-guilt path. It reminds me to reframe what I previously saw as "failings" as morally neutral choices — I am choosing to skip the laundry today so I can make a dinner that includes a vegetable. Or I am choosing to leave some dishes in the sink so I can read my daughters an extra chapter at bedtime. Choosing my "anything" gives me the freedom to let go of the "everything"s that quickly pile up.

Everyone has unique "anythings" — or different things they choose to prioritize. I know this, and yet it can feel like just because I'm seeing other people manage to fit things into their schedule that I'm not doing, I should be able to do these things, too. I have to remind myself to put my blinders on and to stop absorbing what other people have chosen to make time for and focus on my own priorities.

I'm more selective about how I spend my time now

When I look at my own life, decide what matters to me, and be selective about what I want to make space for with the limited time and energy I have, I can more easily release the expectations around trying to make time to do everything — because I know that's impossible, even if it can sometimes feel like other people are making it happen.

For my "anything," I'm choosing to raise my daughters in a nurturing and safe home. I'm choosing to take time to do things I love, like writing and gardening. And I'm choosing to chill out on everything else. Yes, this is easier said than done, but it's still a worthy goal.

When the judgy voices creep into my brain, I remind myself why I'm prioritizing those things. I'm letting go of trying to project the image to others that I have it all together at the expense of myself and my relationships. I'm letting go of choosing to try to look like I can do everything, at the expense of not being able to enjoy anything. And in letting go of these things, I'm choosing myself, my daughters, and my husband.

So, yes, shoes clutter the entryway to my home and half-folded piles of laundry sit on the couch. But most days, I have time to sketch or write. My daughters play elaborate games with all 50 of their Barbies scattered throughout the house for easy access.

Most school emails go unread, and I don't follow the six-step skincare routine my dermatologist recommended — but that's OK. When I acknowledge I can't have it all, I'm able to focus on what I really want. I don't have time to do everything, but I actually think that's a good thing. "Everything" is overwhelming. Instead, I have something real, messy, loving, and nurturing: my family.