I wake up before my alarm, before our young dog. Holy sleep hygiene, Batman! I officially am one of those crazy people “who doesn’t need an alarm”. After one week. I take the young dog out and return to bed with the family – The Hub and the dogs. Despite seven hours of sleep, I am still tired. I read in bed until my fitness class.
You know that moment when you’re working really hard in a fitness class and you feel your muscles burning from effort but you really just want to punch the instructor in the face? Yes, that.
I love B, my mediation instructor. She is the most amazing person. At 20 years younger than me, I am jealous of her wisdom, her patience, her deep knowing. She is such a gift. B asks me to look for “synchronicity” this week. Aware that she likely is not referring to the album by The Police, I have to Google the term.
I find my family still in bed, and I am anxious. I made The Hub go to bed with me at 10:30 the previous evening, and he as not happy. Not one bit. I wonder if I have a mess to clean up or if he appreciates my intentions. Typical of our shared stubbornness, he reluctantly admits that he benefitted from the sleep with a qualifier. Always a qualifier. Being married to someone trained in math is a learned skill. Proceed cautiously.
We arrive home from walking the dogs and survey the contents of our kitchen cupboards scattered about from yesterday’s “flood”. If we want to eat, we have to deal with this mess, and the previous day has left us gun-shy of restaurants. I set to work, draining years-old expired food goods and washing pots and pans that were used to catch water. I know deeply that this moment would not be occurring if I a) stayed up very late and b) consumed ETOH. I am proud of myself.
I just cleaned the bathroom sink and toilet. What the fuck is happening? One week into this whole structure thing, and I have time to actually take care of and manage my life. I am both not-so-secretly pleased and secretly annoyed with myself. I work hard to not think about the hours that I have wasted in my life.
I walk to the Salvation Army with a bag of donations and to the Market for meat and produce. Listening to a book on tape, The Case Against Sugar, has the opposite effect. My brain is just hearing “sugar” and then “sugar” and “sugar” again. I then think of every form of sugar that I love. I am also annoyed with the book for a variety of reasons. I cannot wait for it to end and to eat – you guessed it – sugar. My oppositionality can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. It’s like someone spent an hour telling me what to do, and I automatically think, “Oh, yeah! Try that again!”
The Hub and I have walked the dogs to the corner tavern and sit outside in the patio. I tell one of our favorite servers that I am just having a soda water. She asks the inevitable question, “Why?” I stated that I have to work later and she asks again, “Are you sure?” I think of all that I accomplished that day and say, “Yep.” It is hard in the moment, but the moment passes. The dogs soak up the sun and attention from other patrons.
I cue the Netflix to continue a series that we started the previous week and notice that I could give a shit. I am not involved and am on my smart phone. I stop myself, pause the show and stated, “I’m sorry. I can’t watch this now. The TV is yours.” I cannot watch TV sometimes; it just doesn’t garner my attention. I think that’s why I drank ETOH while watching television sometimes – to slow down my brain. The younger dog joins me in bed as I read The Ministry of Utmost Happiness. My body is weary, and I am ready for sleep to come.