Blog 2. THE MORNING ROUTINE. I wake up resentful and sore.

Dysfunctional thought of the day

A woman my age was already grateful glowing and juicing something green this

morning. I hadn’t found my slippers yet.

Let me tell you about my morning routine

Not a gentle sunrise. Not mindful breathing. “I Wake up”. Reluctantly.

Soundtrack courtesy of either some of the world class snoring or the neighbor’s toddler who has FEELINGS. Very loud ones. Immediately after, the soreness kicks in, all muscles that attended yesterday gym session files a formal complaint. Once you cross 40, gym hits different and nobody warned me about that.

Now let me tell you what my SOCIALS says my mornings should look like

She wakes up ‘this woman’ over 40 naturally before the sunrise in her perfect linens. She makes a green juice not because anyone asked her, but she so much wanted to. Journals. Gratitude, three things or may be five, she has many things to be grateful for. Her skin only could fill a page. By 7 am she has meditated, stretched and written something profound in a leather book.

SHE IS THRIVING.

I AM NOT HER. By 7 am I have barely made it to the kitchen in my yesterday's socks.

I AM ALSO THRIVING. Just differently

FIRST STOP. The real work begins making sure a certain someone is vertical, conscious and moving in the direction of the door. This takes longer than it should, everyday without exception. Like school days are surprise to him.  

THE SCROLL. I know, I know, call me addicted to social media. Unapologetically, I open it and spend few minutes well watching algorithm shaming me through reels of ladies my age doing aggressively well. I put down my phone feeling inspired and personally attacked.

GYM. Eventually not at 5 am. Not in matching sets not documented for anyone's viewing pleasure but I GO because its Mine, the one hour that entirely belongs to me Nobody can ask me anything not even what’s for Dinner. Especially not what’s for Dinner.

REST OF THE DAY and I use this phrase loosely because it implies some kind of order.

It's not orderly.

1. Laundry that needed doing yesterday

2. Vacuuming that nobody requested but everybody benefits from

3. Grocery run where I inevitably forget that one thing I went for and return with five other I didn’t plan to

And somewhere between all of this, few moments of genuine introspection about my career choice.

Finance. The department that keeps the entire operations running and I say that with absolutely NO Bias whatsoever. They get no credit and is somehow always the first in line when someone upstairs discover the word REALIGN.

REALIGN , YES very strategic and forward looking and very much you no longer have a desk.

I chose a field that approximately half the world's population also chose. One job. One hundred and forty seven applicants . All of us. Clicking. Hoping. Slightly desperate. 

And if you think juggling all of this solo is a lot wait until I tell you when you add a job, a commute and an audacity to keep it all together, THAT’S THE WHOLE OTHER HUMAN. For some other day

Signing out till I am comfortable sharing more. EM