Life After Dark

As my pen wandered the page and sifted through my thoughts as I wrote my Morning Pages, it finally landed on a goal - simply stay awake after supper.

I have had jobs which have worn me down, starting in 2011. 

It all began with a Nightmare Boss (or two or three). I suppose that was the worst of times. But it sure set me up for the years that followed.

The common denominator was the onset of turning on the TV and tuning out my thoughts after supper. Add utter mental fatigue to the equation and the only way I could stay awake after supper was to turn to chips. 

Chips and TV have been my coping mechanisms for almost fifteen years. The past year I have adapted to falling asleep in front of the TV directly after supper. I've forfeited chips in lieu of a bedtime as early as 6:30, probably averaging somewhere around 7:00 - 7:15 pm.

This morning, I decided I can do ONE thing to start the evolution of change. Devote ONE hour after work to some task. Be it big or small. Maybe even a walk. Just ONE hour. I can eat at 6:00 instead of 5:00. That should delay my bedtime to somewhere around 7:30 to 8:00.

ONE small change. Just ONE. 

Can I still embrace my ritual of climbing directly into my pajamas after work? Until my ONE task becomes something I am doing outside, the answer is "yes". 

Climbing into my pj's is like a warm embrace at the end of a long day. I have exchanged chips for pajamas. Don't get me wrong. I still turn to chips if I want to stay up past 7:00. But I'm not filling a void with chips the way I did once upon a time. I am wearing out my favorite pajama pants though.

Due to the fact our day light hours are increasing, I don't know if I can begin to actually have a life after dark until sometime in the fall. But I can add one more hour to my days by simply doing "one hard thing" after work. 

  Living my best life - Netflix & Chips

Tiny Habits

It is pure coincidence I have found the desire to write out loud on the day of New Year's Eve. It is even more coincidental I want to write about habits. 

First off, I have recognized an ache within myself I've been filling with food, Netflix, purging on TV series, scrolling, inactivity and simply not being as productive as I am capable of being. 

I have developed an unhealthy relationship with food, TV, cell phone and the ache I feel for isolation. I know I can't solve everything at once but I can tell the essence of "me" is ready to receive direction towards a better way.

I came upon this blog post "Tiny Habits" (bemorewithless.com) many days ago. It spoke to me in a way few things have penetrated my thoughts lately. I scribbled down a few points on a scrap of paper:

• change morning routine - write; read &/or breathe deeply (meditate??)
• movement breaks - every 1 - 2 hours
• gratitude journal
• read
• tackle one decluttering task for 15 minutes
• walk after meals
• ONE line a day journal

This sounds so simple, I thought I should start all of the goals immediately. Then decided otherwise, as I would prefer to add one new habit at a time. So I moved the scrap of paper around daily and changed nothing, other than "drinking more water" (the one new habit I've been diligently maintaining, which is making the "bathroom movement breaks" goal very attainable).  

If I do nothing else, it is my hope to incorporate gratitude and ONE line-a-day that made an impact on me, onto this blog so I can attempt to get back into the habit of writing.

I have missed finding my own answers as I let my fingers fly over the keyboard and write the words that are swimming around aimlessly in my head and make sense of them as they formulate a blog post. I start writing and allow distractions into the room and lose my way. 

I have made myself a sandwich; took a picture and emailed it to myself; responded to a text message; washed this morning's coffee cup and arranged all the ingredients I need to make hamburger soup on the counter after I wrote down the bullet points I hoped to write about this morning.

Distraction is high on the list of habits I want to change as I feel the yearning inside of me to do better, be better and live better than I have been.

I'm not going to make specific goals. I want to alter my habits. Rome wasn't built in a day. ONE step at a time. I can do better. I want to change one bad habit at a time.

Today's challenge? Paint the inside of the cupboard under the sink. I have readied the area and opened the cupboard so the cats can investigate to their heart's content before there is wet paint to contend with.

My intention is set. And I've added a hearty, homemade soup to my agenda to appease my insatiable appetite. I want to curb my appetite with nutritious food - not the McDonald's meal I am truly craving. 

Junk food satisfies a craving. Nutritious food satisfies a body's needs and lasts longer (if one doesn't eat 5 cookies in quick succession after eating a meal). Pause. Let my brain realize my stomach is full before purging on sugar for (yet another) quick fix. 

ONE step at a time. One step in a forward direction. 

Today's Goal

Update (2 hours later):

 

I achieved what I set out to do. Done!

I am now off to watch Oprah talk about how to "Build the Life You Want".

This is NOT the end.

I Think I Want to Start Smoking

Many mornings, while I am making my first cup of coffee, I gaze out of our kitchen window and see our neighbor on their front doorstep having a morning cigarette. She is doing nothing else. She is simply outside, gazing into space or nature or checking out the weeds in the flower garden for all I know. She is still. She is outside. She is smoking.

It is a serene sight. It makes me want to smoke.

There are a lot of pros to this idea:

• you must smoke outdoors (in most cases)
• the smoke acts as a natural mosquito repellent 
• your body naturally craves this forced down-time
• long, deep inhales followed by consciously exhaling
• it is a forced work break
• in social situations, it is a reason to step aside for a while
• it is a break as long as the cigarette lasts - not too long, not too short
• if I could smoke instead of eat, I could fit back into my clothes in due time

Yes, I know. The con list is longer, more logical and scientifically proven to win any debate on the matter. The cons win. Hands down. But what could a person substitute for smoking to gain the benefits?

Stepping outside, just to breathe the air, listen to the birds and watch the clouds is so alluring. Yet I don't take that one small step. It's too hot/cold/windy/rainy. There are too many bugs. The cats will want to go outside with me.

The only thing my body seems to naturally crave is food, coffee and bathroom breaks. I multitask whenever I do "any of the above". I turn on the TV/check emails/grab my phone or a number of other distractions when my body is simply telling me to STOP. 

The only time I catch myself breathing deeply is when I'm in way over my head within my little home office. I breath deeply a lot. Not the quite the same as taking that long, deep breath on our deck. At least I'm breathing.

I manage socializing when I must. In fact in most cases I actually enjoy it. Even more true, is the fact that those whose ears I am talking off may quite possibly wish I did smoke so I would know when to end a conversation. Inserting a natural pause into a social setting could benefit mankind.

When I do take a break, I either stop too long or not long enough. I grab a bite to eat, turn on the TV and either stop only long enough to inhale what is on my plate or I shut down entirely. On the days I stop cold, only the sound of a ringing phone, incoming text message or email spur me back into my office.

Replacing eating with a bright new habit would be such a boon. The comfort I get from chewing, savoring, swallowing and going back for more food really, really makes me wish I smoked. I have a feeling this is part of the allure into this deadly habit. 

Dancing. Those were the days. I would turn on the music and simply dance. I would practise dance steps, technique and/or new choreography. Music filled the air and I was lost in the moments. There was no room for any other thoughts when I was in the dance studio. It was like walking into Cheers, where everyone knew my name. Everyone was united in a common interest and quest to move to the beat of whatever music was playing.

It could be somewhat foolish looking to start dancing outside on my deck. But hey! "Dance like no one is watching" is something I've heard somewhere.

It is probably healthier than smoking.

P.S. The high cost of dancing, the great discomfort of wearing dance shoes, the need to update my wardrobe, my work schedule and the fact that my most favorite dance studio in the world closed down has eliminated dancing as a replacement for smoking. I may start smoking after all ...

Easing Into May

Never have I been happier to flip over into a clean and empty calendar page than I have been lately. Calendar notations, appointments, Revenue Canada deadlines, what-to-do, what-has-been-done ... all of it. I simply love an empty canvas to recreate the feeling of beginning again.

May. Just the sound of it "may" ... it has the feel of a polite month. May I please ask you this one favor. May we fill some dates with fun activities? Maybe we can work in some outside spring clean-up. May flowers. Mother, may I?

I worked in the first round of yard clean up after returning home from my second job (on Monday, May 1st - great start to a new month, right?). Thanks to the extended daylight hours and fine weather, this arrangement set me up for success. I had an hour at my disposal and I made a game of it. I wonder how much I can do in an hour ...

Fueled by adrenaline, I pushed the deadline and came inside in need of a shower. Ahhh! A productive evening. A shower to mark the end of the day. 

I was so pumped that I didn't even need to eat to stay awake. It was a marvelous feeling. Unfortunately I ate anyway. The habit is engrained deeply into my being. That is on me.

"I should do this every night!" was my immediate thought. If I don't do something productive, I could go for a walk. I was already feeling my resolve faltering before I left for my second job yesterday afternoon, so I started vacuuming and left the vacuum cleaner in a place where I would literally trip over it before I sat down in front of the TV and lost myself to old habits.

I vacuumed the small bit of vacuuming that was left and immediately climbed into my pj's and resumed my position in front of the TV. Once again, I didn't need to eat to stay awake so I enjoyed the sensation for as long as it lasted until I craved the sensation of the crunch and saltiness of a good bag of chips.

Houston, I think we have a problem. And the problem is me.

May I please be excused? 

Easier Said Than Done

I am on Day 2 of my promise to myself, to blog daily. In a nutshell? I'm coming up empty.

I've started two posts but abandoned them. Too much. Not my story to tell. I start out with a nugget of an idea but get lost. I must keep it simple as I attempt to reconnect the brain to fingertip connection that used to surprise and amaze me.

I would sit down in front of the computer and just start typing. The next thing I knew, there were words laid out before me that assembled my freefalling thoughts into paragraphs that made more sense in black and white, than they did within my head. "If ever I am unable to communicate, give me a keyboard and I will probably be able to type out what I cannot say" was my motto at the time.

Oh, how the writer within has fallen. If I was to subconsciously type out what is within my head at this very moment, it may come out as this:  af io e9 ke dls kjshf o8s s    aoaoua sdaosdis

Yes, I have systematically numbed my thoughts for so long my brain to fingertip connection is not functioning. I kept the posts I started. I scribbled down ideas on my "Blog Every Day" note-to-self that is sitting on/by my computer. I will try, try again. But for today, showing up is the best I can do.

I'll try again tomorrow.

March Forward

I woke up to the year 2023 with a 2022 hangover. 2022 was a year that left a bad taste in my mouth. I sat down to write here in the wee hours of January 1st, didn't like what I wrote and never looked back. Now, here I am. Fresh new month, fresher perspective. 

 A blog writer I enjoy made a pact with herself to write every day in February. She too, had gotten out of the regular writing habit which meant I, in return, got out of the reading habit. It was a pure delight to go back and read the posts I had missed. Her musings, perspective, projects and some of the light and easy stuff of life were documented. I sensed the pleasure she rediscovered as she renewed her writing habit. 

What a great idea, was my first thought! February was already half way complete by the time I read this. February is my favorite and least favorite winter month. Favorite - because it speeds by so fast. Least favorite - because it speeds by so fast. In an accounting/bookkeeping world, those two lost days are very noticeable. "I will start in March!", was my second thought.

March. Thirty one days to meet my bookkeeping deadlines. Month-end falls on a Friday, so I have all week to prepare for those final, frenzied days. NO bookkeeping deadlines that are set by all the powers-that-be within my little bookkeeping world. PST, GST, T4's, WCB, and all the other letters of the alphabet have been tamed the past two months. Deadlines met. Employees paid. Bills paid. Revenue Canada is satisfied for the moment.

Let me breathe a long sigh of relief as I revel in the moment of overcoming the toughest two months of the year. Now is my time to set some resolutions hopes for the year ahead. Aspirations, whimsical dreams, a renewal of hope. I shall March forward from here.

Number 1 goal - to write on!

New Habits and Me

I have filled a journal and ran the ink dry on two, brand new (for journal writing only) pens. Morning pages and me seem to be working.

Julia Cameron, something is happening here. What started out as three pages of negativity, whining and repetitive nonsense has unclogged some of my writing arteries.

I have a way to go but I believe I'm off to a good start. Writing and me go back a long way. Instilling the habit of literally writing from the heart, straight onto the page without technological intervention (a computer keyboard) has worked some kind of magic for me. 

I know "writing" isn't the answer for everyone but it sure works for me. I always seem to find my answers when I let myself write like no one is reading. I highly recommend it.

Mornings and Me

I love mornings. Morning is the part of my day before the world expects anything of me. I sit in the quiet and do whatever I want to do before the "noise" infiltrates my world.

I squeeze in what I used to love about quiet time, while I had my daycare. I have a raft of word puzzles and Suduko that I used to do while my daycare family napped or watched a movie. I enjoy this routine. I will keep it.

I longingly look back on my daycare days and have such fond memories of quiet time. Presently, I have no way to insert an hour of "quiet" into the midpoint of my work day. I miss quiet time. I miss it a lot.

I have reinstated my daily writing habit since the onset of 2019. Even if I don't have the right words to post aloud, I write whatever comes to my mind in a daily journal. Unfiltered thoughts are allowed to be voiced. As I write aloud without a care in the world about my words being read by anyone but myself, I seem to find my own answers as I let those words go.

I am forever in search of "my answers". Things I already know but have to unearth them from time to time. Writing is my therapy. I have felt much saner since I started setting my words free on a daily basis. I don't always like my voice but I fear that if I censor my thoughts too much, they may all come out in an endless rampage if ever I lose control of my censor button. I believe it is good to release the bad with the good. I'll keep this too.

I love my morning coffee. I don't even think it is the flavor of the coffee that appeals to me. Coffee signifies time I have put aside just for "me". Coffee and visiting. Coffee and friends. Coffee and sitting outside. Coffee with Mom back in the day. It isn't really the coffee. It's what goes along with it. I like to set aside time for two cups of coffee on weekdays. Three cups are reserved for weekends.

I savor the alone time. Time where I don't have to speak. I believe I am exceeding my daily word quota on a regular basis. My alone-time in the morning helps to regenerate the word requirement of the day.

All this said, I cannot believe what I am going to write next. The moment I wake up and see the sun starting to peek in my window is one of the hardest parts of my day. I don't feel ready to face the day ahead of me.

I talk myself out of this notion and remind myself of how much I will enjoy those hours I have set aside. All I have to do is put my feet on the floor and take one step in a forward direction. And I do.

I have nothing left in me at the end of my days. I come home on empty. All I want to do is climb into my pajamas, grab my Pringles and savor those moments of turning myself "off". It is a moment akin to the ceremonial "closing of the living room drapes" the moment my daycare day was over where I tell myself "I am closed for business".

My daycare days were long. But they ended earlier in the day. I am struggling with my new hours. I've been doing this for 2-1/2 years but I have yet to find my sweet spot. Thus, I believe I rely too heavily on my co-dependence on chips to get me through the night.

We cannot recreate the past. The best we can do is keep what has worked for us and let the rest go. I'm trying. But there just don't seem to be enough hours in the day. I think this is due to the fact that the sun is getting up before I'm ready for it.

Yes, I shall just blame the sun. Give me six months and I'll be complaining of too little sun. Sometimes? I think I am impossible to please. Honestly ....

The Restorative Power of Rest

For every high, there is a low. For every burst of energy, there is a need to recoup, refresh, rest and restart. I am presently "restarting".

When I sat still yesterday, a wave of exhaustion overtook me. I overpowered that sensation and forced myself up off the couch and I headed to the kitchen to "cook" (does frying up hamburger and adding a package of seasoning = cooking?).

The reward of this act of motion in the kitchen was "taco salad". I took my plate and sat myself back down where I had previously wanted to do nothing more than sleep. Instead of sleeping, I ate.

Big mistake.

My son was actually quite pleased to find the aroma and offering of food in the middle of the afternoon. Normally, I would think eating at 3 p.m. would give me permission to skip cooking supper. Except I had already peeled potatoes so I offered to cook a late supper (second mistake?).

My son has just returned from an "all expenses paid" workshop where three meals a day were provided as part of the package. As a result of this, he has returned home with a healthy appetite.  Christmas Day, he turned down the last piece of bacon at breakfast because he wanted to be sure he would be hungry for Christmas dinner. One piece of bacon? Who in the world doesn't have room for one piece of bacon? I believe even Mom (the smallest eater I have ever known) would have leapt at the offer.

Not only did I provide a mid afternoon meal, I went through the motions of cooking a late supper meal as well.

All this time in the kitchen was a great excuse to NOT cross any other item off my mental to-do-list. Plus I was tired. Physically and mentally. I was tired of thinking, planning and doing. I just wanted to rest. Except I felt guilty for resting, so I ATE to stay awake (and I wonder why my new pj bottoms don't fit so well?!).

Fast forward to this morning.

I woke up to a brand new work week. My heart sunk to the bottom of my mattress and made it so hard to put my feet on the floor. I want another Sunday. Sigh...

Then, I flipped open my "Living Juicy" ("daily morsels for your creative soul") book. Week #1 for the new year focused on procrastination. I read the first week's worth of morsels. Closed the book. Then worked at pushing myself out of procrastination mode. This exhausted me. So why should I be surprised that the second week's focus is "napping"?

I wish I would have picked up this book yesterday. I would have fully honored my exhaustion, closed my eyes and rested. Instead I have an achy stomach hangover from eating too much. My son needed the nourishment. Me? Not so much. Nourishment? Maybe. It was all the snacking I squeezed in between the meals that hurt me.

I am not a big fan of the word "napping" but I do believe in its restorative qualities. I am not certain where I could work this time of restoration into my current day work week but as I type the words, I am hearing my answer.

I eat to stay awake. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to add those two facts together and figure out I should honor that exhaustion and rest instead of eat. I get home by 7:30 at night. If I didn't snack, I would be in bed by 8:00. What if I didn't eat, but allowed myself time to close my eyes, relax, restore and plan to get up in an hour. Then, accomplish "one hard thing" before I went to bed at night? What if????

My procrastination excuses are primarily based on a lack of time and energy. What if I created that time by feeding my body "sleep" when it was tired instead of food? What if??

My excuse is that by the time I get home at the end of a long day, my mental fatigue is high. My body is well rested and I am more tired of sitting idle than physically tired. Instead of using my mental exhaustion as an excuse to eat and Netflix my night away, I should find a way to "honor" that without medicating myself with food and sleep.

I have sleepwalked (what IS the past tense of sleep walk?!?) through most of the entire past year by using food, sleep, Netflix and surfing the Internet to dull my thoughts and put my head in a neutral zone so I could keep placing one foot in front of the other.

Food and sleep are my reward for "doing hard things" and making it through a day. I must admit I am as addicted to the reward as I am to the excuse for creating the reward to begin with.

Admitting I have a problem is the first step. I am addicted to my "numbing" activities. I am exhausted.

Rule #1 - rest when you are tired
Rule #2 - eat when you are hungry
Rule #3 - admit I am a "recovering procrastinator"
Rule #4 - do ONE hard thing each day
Rule #5 - gradually increase the number of "hard things"

Yesterday? I cooked. Today? I shall work on one project for one hour AND I will do one more hard thing. Does leaving the house count?

I need to reinstate the goal to do "Six Impossible Things Before Lunch". Changing "lunch" to 8 a.m is my obstacle. Perhaps I need to revise that to "One Impossible Thing (before I go to work)" and "A Second Impossible Thing" (after I come home).

Baby steps. One step at a time. I have SO many vices to overcome and I truly believe the weight of the excess within our home is at the bottom of a lot of what I am battling. Thus, I am starting there.

Yesterday's obstacle? The second category of Marie Kondra's steps to tidying up is: Books. I sat still with my perfectionist mindset yesterday trying to orchestrate a method where I CAN put all of the books together in one room of our home. My obstacle? I want to build these books a home for them to live, which is THE complication which has stopped me in my tracks this entire past year.

I know I should renumber the sequence Marie Kondra suggests. But I also know the power of taking that impossible "first step". I know the energy which will be released the moment I start taking action.

I need a nap ...

Food, We Need to Talk!

Food, you and I need to have a talk. I need you to know I have been "using" you. Using and abusing you. It is an unhealthy relationship we have, Food. I need to relearn how to treat you because I need you in my life. How can we learn to co-exist in a healthy way?

I wandered away from my second cup of coffee this morning and suddenly remembered the little ways food was a form of a reward and consolation when I was young.

Sundays will forever remind me of Dad going to pick up McDonald's for supper and he would time it so he would return by 6:00 and we would gather around the TV and watch "The Wonderful World of Disney". Only on Sundays. It was family time, it was special and it was something I always looked forward to.

I remember Mom picking up Pringles and we shared that can of Pringles while we watched "The Waltons".

I remember coming home from school every day, making myself a chocolate milkshake, then sitting down and devouring the current book I was reading.

I remember another phase when I came home from school, made some popcorn and watched "Love American Style".

I remember a time when I was heartbroken over not being asked to dance at a school sock hop. I came home feeling sad and Mom made French fries for supper (French fries had a designated day of the week and they were served at lunch time). French fries were my consolation prize.

I just remembered a time when I was quite young and knowing I just wanted to die. I was not courageous enough to act on that urge but quietly decided I would starve myself to death. I remember reading how long the body could last without food. Obviously I never succeeded. Probably because Dad brought home McDonald's the following Sunday.

After I left home, whenever I would walk through Mom's door, the offer of food, conversation, company and support was always there. Always.

Food accompanied me through good times and bad. Then I became independent and started hiding, hoarding it and eating alone. I bought my junk food at different stores so no one would know the problem I had with food. I hid snacks in my closet. You know you are in trouble when you start using food to fill a void.

Was I subconsciously trying to recreate the comfort that food always provided? Was I using food to numb my feelings and fill the void? Did I use food as a reward? As a consolation?

Yes.

They say the first step is admitting it to yourself. "Hello, my name is Colleen. And I am a foodaholic."

I don't know where I will go from here (even though I know where I need to go). I will start at the beginning. I will admit my powerlessness over food. I will admit I use food in a fashion it was never meant to be used. I admit I eat too much, too often and for all the wrong reasons. I will allow myself to delve into that first step of admitting my powerlessness and I will move onto the second step.

Hmmm ... I started writing this post in a tongue in cheek, humorous kind of way. Then I let my fingers fly across the keyboard and I have realized I may be onto something here. It isn't about cleansing, deprivation and eating in a Whole30 kind of way. It is about getting to the bottom of the relationship I have with food.

Food, I am so over you. You hold far too much power over me and I resent you for that. I don't know exactly where I will go, but this is where I will start. I need to redefine my relationship with food. I have a feeling that is not as simple as it sounds...

2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours

They say it takes three weeks to form a habit. I was 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours into forming a new habit. All it took was a restless night and one (okay, probably at least thirty) potato chips and I broke the habit I was working so hard to maintain.

It sounds simple. I just wanted to stop snacking after supper.

The first few days were the worst. I then discovered falling asleep early helped me past the most challenging hours. I was starting to feel as though I may have this thing licked. I was hours away from completing my challenge of "the first three weeks" into my new non-snacking-after-supper routine.

I often nod off to sleep, only to awaken and feel fully alert for about 93 seconds and fall back into another deep slumber. This cycle of sleep and wakefulness is not new. I have become quite accustomed to it and manage it very well (Netflix accommodates my need to watch something I'm interested in, in order to fall back to sleep).

One night (2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours into my new no snacking after supper habit), I was going through my regular habit of sleeping, waking, sleeping and waking. Then the phone rang. It was 9:38 p.m., which is also apparently the point of no return when it comes to falling back to sleep.

It was my boss, telling me not to bother coming to work the next morning. They would be having a fire drill in her apartment and the whole process could take a few hours. We would aim for a 1:00 p.m. start time instead ...

After tossing and turning for quite some time after this phone call, I could not shift my attention off the can of Pringles, minding their own business in my closet. The episode of "How I Met Your Mother" did not supercede my interest on those chips.

All I could think of was those chips. Chips. Chips. Chips. Mmmm. Chips. Chips. CHIPS!!!

I gave up. I tried to convince myself that eating in the middle of the night didn't count against my proven track record of 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours of not eating after supper.

I showed great restraint. I only ate about a third of the can. Maybe a half. It was dark. I don't know for sure. I simply know I left quite a few in the can.

I woke the next morning and told myself over and over and over again. One time does not a habit break. Just start anew. Carry on from where you left off. You did this for 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours. You can do it again. Forgive yourself. Move on. Don't quit!!

Then I worked in the yard for four hours that day. I forgot to eat lunch. I came home from work and I felt like snacking. I knew there was that half a can of opened Pringles. "It's okay. You worked for this. You burned extra calories today. Eat the chips. Go ahead ..."

And I did.

Then came another restless night. We are solving math puzzles at work and I had to leave a job half finished. Again. I woke up and all I could see was spreadsheets, numbers, solutions and problem solving whirling around in my head. Over and over and over. No amount of "How I Met Your Mother" episodes could take my mind off the work I left behind yesterday.

So I did what any rational humanoid who is trying to avoid after supper snacking would do. I opened another can of chips.

I didn't even bother getting out of bed this time. Jet was already cat napping in my favorite TV watching spot on the couch beside me, so I simply plumped my pillows, rolled over my portable end table so it was beside me. And I ate.

And I ate. And I ate. And I ate. I'm pretty sure the Pringles can is no more than a third full this morning. Maybe only a quarter.

Rats!! I thought I had this thing. But I do believe I am back at square one again.

Why do I still have chips in the house you ask? When Mom stopped smoking, she kept a half a pack of cigarettes in the house. She had will power like no one I know. Her thinking may (???) have been "I will never BUY another pack of cigarettes again". She never did. She stopped smoking on January 18, 2003 and never smoked again. We smiled when we came upon her opened package of cigarettes after she died...

Maybe I should leave that opened can of Pringles in my closet. Quietly circle a date on my calendar and bring no attention to it other than an unmarked circle on the calendar.

Perhaps the greatest incentive to not smoke again, was knowing how stale those cigarettes would have been, had Mom decided to light one up after their "best before" date. Mom obviously surpassed the "three week" mark.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Maybe I'll try again. Maybe I won't. But if I can make it past the 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours mark, it is my hope that a stale bag of chips will be my salvation.

Except, I did not promise to quit eating chips. I simply wanted to break the habit of eating after supper. Thus, the reason I still sleep with chips in my room. Now maybe THAT is the habit I should work on breaking ... removing temptation from my bedroom closet (my kids honestly thought it was normal to hide store snacks in my room and were amazed when the snacking foods "came out of the closet" and into the open).

The opened can of chips I left on the kitchen counter mysteriously disappeared one day. Maybe SHARING my Pringles is the way to go. If one cannot succeed at complete abstinence, perhaps moderation is worth a shot?

Creating More of the Same

Am I the only person who seems to be drawn to recreating their world based on the way things have always been?

The first time I noticed this, was when it started to feel as though there may not be a scarcity of money within my budget.

My monthly finances have flip-flopped immensely this year. The end of my trips to see Mom equalled less car expenses plus more income. This, in and of itself has created a brand new situation within my life. There is money left over at the end of the month.

I then examined my spending habits of the prior year and created a budget based on annual car/house maintenance; income tax; house insurance; vet bills; and gifts. Suddenly, the excess income at the end of the month was not enough to cover "all of the above".

"Ahhh! Now this is what I am used to. Bring it on!"

There have been a few unexpected windfalls come my way. I feel uncomfortable with these funds and I simply couldn't relax until I recreated the scarcity sensation which is part of who I am.

I paid off my mortgage and was short $388.18 which I paid from the excess funds at the end of the month. Thus, creating a shortfall with my budgeted allotment with which I was to pay off my credit card. I had to find some creative ways to finance the remainder of the week to keep my budget balanced. The moment I was scrambling for funds again, I felt this huge exhale of relief fall out of my body.

"Ahhh! Now THIS is what I'm used to feeling!"

The calmness which took over the reins of my anxiety was intoxicating. I was content. I was back where I felt comfortable.

I sit here this morning, after contacting Revenue Canada, washing up some strawberries, slicing up sandwich-ready fillers and washing a load of clothes. I am presently gulping down my last cup of coffee for the morning and writing this post, when I should be hopping into the tub and heading out the door.

"Ahhh! Now THIS feels familiar!"

Creating a scarcity of time sensation is tricky within my world, where I could easily have all the time I wish for. The need to feel rushed as I make my way out the door is comfortable and feels "right".

I became accustomed to running out to Mom's. Sometimes with a purpose, other times "just because" but most of all I went out so I could be there as needed.

I walked out the door a few mornings ago with the tools I needed to provide some foot comfort for my 80 year and older lady friends. One needed a sliver pulled out. The other could use some relief for a corn. I packed up my tweezers and moleskin and once again I sighed ...

"Ahhh! I feel needed. All is right in my world."

I have walked along side my Oldest Son as he has tended to an eye infection and we have spent more time together in the past week or so, than we have all year. "You should have a job where you take care of people" he commented.

My heart clenched in fear. It feels good to feel needed. But when the need passes and you will never see the one you have tended to again, it creates a void which sometimes feels impossible to fill.

I step back and evaluate my world where I keep recreating the life I have had. I am good at some things. Not so good at others. My most powerful motivator has been "scarcity".

Last year, I knew in my heart of hearts, that my ability to spend time with Mom was winding to a close. I wanted to be wrong. I begged to be wrong. But I kept filling my time with those trips out to see her. Scarcity motivated me and moved me to exactly where I needed and wanted to be.

It's a hard habit to break but living with the feeling that there is never enough has gotten me to where I am. The reality is, is that there is ALWAYS enough. No matter how little time, money or energy I felt I had, there was ALWAYS enough.

I was always enough. Even though it never felt that way at the time.

Scarcity and me. We are good friends. Maybe I should try to end this toxic relationship. I don't know? It's worked for me. I keep recreating more of the same. It's no wonder habits are a hard thing to break.

New Habits are So Time Consuming!

New habits are time consuming. I believe I've heard it said that the best way to kick an old habit is to replace it with a new one. Doing one thing instead of another takes away the temptation to do what you want to stop doing, with an added bonus of keeping your daily regimen intact.

This new exercise thing has added a half hour to my morning routine. I gave up sleeping in that extra hour in lieu of making time to exercise, while (trying to) form a new habit of getting up at 6:00 a.m. This is good.

The writing thing? It feels harder.

In my old life, I woke up early to intentionally make time to write. My daycare family walked in the door at 7:30 a.m. and everything I managed to get done in the day from that point onward was a bonus. I placed writing first and everything else was second priority.

I now appreciate the fact that my daycare days forced me into some good habits and routines.

I believe what I miss most about my daycaring days is "quiet time". Once my little people were all sleeping &/or still and quiet, I took my laptop and worked on my word puzzles like my life depended on it. Getting those puzzles completed satiated me in a way I assume a smoker may feel after having a cigarette. It was a need. It had to be done. I felt better while doing it and relaxed when I was done.

I would squeeze in time to write in our daycare blog during that time of great quiet. If there was still time to spare, I would cruise the Internet and (most likely) find myself in the thick of my Facebook feed looking for adult input into my very child oriented days.

In this renovated life of mine, my mornings are still too short. I have been running behind on my puzzles by almost a day for several mornings and this morning I just "had" to catch myself up. I believe this is what may be called an addiction but it is not a negative thing so I'm not going to berate myself for it. I must simply find a new place in my day for it.

This thing called cleaning is another thing I have not delegated time for. Once again, back in the daycare days of yore, I had a basic cleaning routine. At my peak, I washed swiped down the kitchen floor every day after lunch. I kept on top of day to day tasks, did basement chores on Thursday and upstairs cleaning was done Friday. It was not uncommon for me to be vacuuming while the kids ate their afternoon snack, so we could head directly outside and I would come into a clean house at the end of a very long day. Yes, I even vacuumed daily back in those days.

I sat down each and every Friday afternoon and mapped out our lunch, snack and supper menu for the following week and on the weekend, I bought groceries accordingly. I baked, I cooked, I froze leftovers and I seemed to have a readily available bounty of homemade muffins, slices and cookies to offer a guest who may drop by. Yes, I even had guests back in the olden days.

Man! That does not sound like me at all. In my prime, I did okay.

There is no need for much of the routine I had in place back in those days. Vacuuming cat hair, cat chores, laundry, cleaning bathrooms and having a clean kitchen are about all I really expect of myself. And I'm doing all of those jobs in a very slap dash and half hazard way.

One thing at a time. Like this:

Maybe I need to add "vacuum cat hair off of living room blinds" onto my weekly chore list. Yesterday, the bathtub. Today, the blinds. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?