Day 3 – 27 July 2017

05:42
Partner: “So do you want me to fix that pork tenderloin tonight?”
Me: “That would be awesome. I’m done early. We could also – ” I don’t finish my sentence: grab a beer? walk for ice cream? They hesitate at the door, waiting for me to finish my sentence.
Me: “Who the fuck gives up alcohol and sugar at the same time?”
Partner: “Only you.”

09:55
I legit woke up at 05:30 – and then promptly moved to the sofa and watched a trashy show that I had recorded the previous evening. Baby steps. My work day does not start until 12:00, and I really don’t know what to do with this time. Fitness classes in which I participate are on different days at different hours. I want to meditate first thing in the morning, but the dogs have to be walked – do I meditate before or after? When do I eat breakfast if my fitness classes are at different times day to day?

Clearly I have not made a daily schedule. I am not procrastinating though. After a birthday a few years ago, I stated, “I am half-dead – if I’m lucky.” I likely am now 52 percent dead. Some might think that it is a morbid way to view one’s life. I don’t. It reminds me to beĀ intentional with my time. Some of the questions that I have been asking of late: “When I am struggling to move or no longer have beloved people around me, how will I view my time spent:

  • watching woman fight on television?”
  • reading mindless drivel on the Internet?”
  • under the influence of substances with (i.e., essentially absent from) people whom I love?”
  • frustrated with transitions that kept me from traveling?”
  • worrying about something about which I have no control?”
  • shopping on the Internet?”
  • yelling at a driver who intrudes upon my space in a bike lane and then feeling guilty for hours?”
  • fuming over a fitness instructor who does not start a class on time?”

I still watch women fight on television, but when I do it, I am very intentional. I.e., “I am going to put my brain into a mild coma and watch crap for one 42 minutes.” When I view it in this manner, I do not get caught in the endless cycle of looking for more to watch (or more time to waste). The Holstee Manifesto hangs in my office. One line reads, “If you don’t have enough time, stop watching TV.” I remind myself of that “mantra” every time that I complain about how little time I have or sit down to watch television.

This whole line of thinking is very new to me. Impulsively I went to a meditation class one day in April. I went back the next week, and my experience was pretty life-changing. I began to view my mind differently. While I am still herding cats in my brain, the cats have changed.

12:45
Someone dear to me says, “Things are shifting. I can tell. You are way less anxious.” I smile, they’re onto me. I’m growing.

13:35
It is hot out, and the air is juicy. Earlier today, I debated “ride share or bicycle” nine miles across the city. “It’s too hot and humid out,” my brain declares. But my brain is an asshole. I live in a City in which the weather graciously – and sometimes not too graciously – provides a reason not to move. I only need to open Accuweather 338 days of the year to say, “Yep, I should take a cab or public transportation.” Ninety minutes ago, I told my brain to bite it and hopped on my bicycle. One mile in traffic, and I am drenched in sweat. It feels awful and good at the same time.

19:02
I lay on the bed, having bicycled somewhere around 20 miles on a sticky, icky day. I wanted to succumb to the allure of sleep, but I knew that doing so would mean waking up at 20:30 and then staying up until midnight knee deep in Netflix. I read the New York Times about the Affordable Care Act, and it’s a good distraction. I tried very hard not to think about how this could impact both my patients and my own healthcare.

22:00
I reluctantly set down my smartphone and pick up a book. I have 30 minutes until bedtime.