I was waiting for something interesting to happen to write. And this morning I remembered, nothing interesting has happened here for a long, long time, especially almost a YEAR into the world's current quarantine-ish thing going on. Don't get me wrong, I'll take uneventful over chaos any day or week or year. But if I had to describe our current life in food forms, it would be luke warm oatmeal. No one really wants to talk about luke warm oatmeal- the kind without brown sugar and other fancy things on top.
All of our routines were stripped from us a year ago. So we started to form new ones, and we hold tight to these to keep our sanity. Maybe that's just me and my sanity though. My alarm goes off at 5:30am each morning. I am not a morning person- but I am an alone time person. And I hate not having recharging, meaningful alone time more than I hate waking early. It's amazing what our mind and body are capable of. Especially when you don't let your mind trick you into being or thinking a certain way. I sit for the first hour, drinking a magical first cup of coffee, while breathing, scrolling through my phone, and thinking about the day ahead. What I love about 5:30am, is that no one can take it away from me. There will be no doctors appointment, no meeting, no therapy, no errands, no nothing that can compete. The time has become sacred to me. I need exercise as much as I need alone time, so at 6:30am, I work out. Clearing the cobwebs from my mind and body. I stretch each morning and feel blood and oxygen flow to my muscles, and I truly cherish that feeling of being capable and alive. It worries me to think about what would happen to me if I couldn't move, couldn't stretch, couldn't exercise. A couple of weeks ago I saw many folks with snowy gray hair, being wheeled around in wheel chairs and I remembered to pause and thank God for my ability to move. Sometimes the only thing holding us back from feeling genuine gratitude in our life is our own perspective.
When it comes to worry, I am not a procrastinator. No siree. (What if I get old and can't walk? What if I become wheel chair bound? How would I recharge? What if I couldn't get around independently? Who will watch the boys when I'm old? How about when I'm dead?) I have to work hard to quiet that frenzied part of my brain. The part that doesn't create, doesn't take deep breaths, doesn't reassure, doesn't allow me to feel gratitude. Sometimes it tricks me into thinking it's my friend, because it's helping me be "prepared" for every worst case scenario ever created, but really- it's just a peace thief. Good things can't come from paranoid frenzy. So I take a deep breath and I move back. I settle into the day. The ACTUAL day, and not some arbitrary future one.
The boys have been conquering some big hurdles over the past few weeks. We had our first same day- same time haircuts. I had to make myself pause and reflect over how far they have come. What used to be a huge source of sensory torture for them, has become doable. It's pretty incredible.