Where I think about habits
The past couple of weeks have been relatively rough for me. As much as I abhor it, I’m a creature of schedule — I do best when things aren’t novel. In fact, I almost strive for a routine. A routine means that it’s easy for me to make good decisions as to what to eat. A routine means that I’m sticking to my schedule for when to work out. A routine means that I’m getting regular sleep.
These past few weeks, well, I haven’t had a routine.
It started with the vacation to the beach, where they kids ended up far from their routine — they slept in bed with a grown-up every night. Since then, well, they’ve nearly demanded that they sleep in bed with Duffy & me. Normally, I sleep through a lot, but toddlers crying for milk at 3am and/or kicking me in the head, well, that’s difficult to sleep through. And sleep gets lost.
Then, there was the ankle injury (which is still in an issue, but is getting better every day, and I’m no longer walking with a huge limp). I went from working out three mornings every week, and over three lunches every week to not working out at all. Someone on Twitter reminded me, yesterday, that I could be swimming (running and cycling are, simply, too much strain on my ankle, and even stuff like push-ups and sit-ups have been causing a fair amount of discomfort), and I’m really mad at myself for not thinking of the idea myself. Still, though, I had a habit of working out. And it was really working for me — I mean, I felt like I was supposed to work out. My body expected it. Now, well, I don’t.
Then there was BlogHer, which was tremendous — but that included copious amounts of snack food, and cheese, and cheeseburgers, and liquor, and squee’ing, and booze, and more cheese. And, of course, my kids spent more time without their routine.
And then Duffy went on her little getaway, which was well-deserved . . . but I gave up any semblance of trying to keep a routine . . . life became, on my end, little more than just “get to the next thing, and hope nobody is maimed in the process.”
My morning workout turned into hitting the snooze and staring at the ceiling (because my body absolutely refuses to let me sleep once the alarm goes off, something that I still haven’t figured out in the pre-dawn times that my alarm goes off). My breakfast routine has turned from a a few handfuls of peanuts & raisins during a conference call to a few cups of coffee. My lunchtime workout has turned into me driving around Harrisburg, seemingly at random, not wanting to give the impression that it’s ok for me to be seen in the office (because my coworkers are in the habit of me not being around for lunch). My regular afternoon habit of drinking water until I was little more than a fluid recycling station has turned into a few extra cups of coffee.
Somehow, I have managed, mostly, to lay off the booze at the end of the night, but every night finds that task a little harder to do.
Basically, I see myself in a bad spiral — I had worked so very hard to get into creating habits in my life . . . good habits. I worked myself to making the things that made me better into priorities, and I scheduled around them. Alas, now, it’s “work” and “whatever the fuck else happens to need to be done right now.” I need to re-establish those habits.
They say it takes two weeks to turn something into a routine . . . and I feel like I’m starting from scratch, but my foot is at a point where I feel that I can do this. So, I’m going to focus.
- I’ll set the alarm for the time that I will wake up — not a mere suggestion as to what I might do.
- I’ll re-introduce swimming to my morning workout routine, and choose that, rather than an empty lying back down, for those times that I’m dealing with an injury.
- I’ll keep gum on hand and chew that through the afternoon, rather than relying on cup after cup of coffee to keep myself going.
- I will find time to write. Every day. Even if I’m not posting here. Dammit, I want to finish my musical.
Hopefully, with that, everything else will fall into place. Hopefully.