When I opened my eyes this morning, it was obvious Mother Nature lied. The sun did not shine, and the sky was not blue. My eyes slammed shut. After twice snoozing the alarm and denying I had to pee, I headed to the bathroom. Then I sneered at my bed and left it unmade. Next, I spurned my workout clothes, and with that my morning exercise routine.
Continuing on my downward spiral, which I was aware of, by the way, I found a mug, crammed in ice cream, poured in milk and stirred gently. The first bite of the Moose Tracks milkshake was extraordinary. It wasn’t long and all the calories, butterfat and fake flavorings were in me.
It was 6:23 AM. So far, each decision failed to bring me joy or lift my droopy mood. I’d bombed. A sour face stared back at me from the mirror after eyeing the clothes I’d laid out for a video conference. My professional self would have to show up by 1 PM. Tempting and taunting myself, I entertained the idea of folding myself into my unmade bed.
NO. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO.
At last, the voice! The familiar voice of reason, direction and expectation. We were old friends, this voice and me. My muscle memory of motivating habits stretched. I felt the shift to determination, energy and mojo. I embraced my better self, my wiser self.
I’m not ashamed of my dark morning, nor do I think of myself as stupid. I don’t know what made me buy the ice cream or reject my morning routine. I could blame it on COVID-19, but I’m not a blamer. What I do know is that each decision was mine and mine alone, including listening to, seizing and following the voice.
Now it’s 9:35 AM. I feel stronger than I was before and more resilient, too.
Thank you for letting me share my journal entry with you. Our struggles are real and I’m grateful we’re here for one another.