So I’ve just been getting all my stuff together ready to go back to work tomorrow, and whilst I’m excited to see everyone and throw myself headlong back into the madness, there’s a part of me that’s secretly gutted to be climbing back onto the hamster wheel. It’s been amazing to have some down-time at home with only myself to please. I’ve become very good at making it all about me.
Hands up who hears the words take care a hundred times a day..? I do, and actually I use them a lot too. When I’m ending a phone call, or saying goodbye to someone, they tend to pop out of my mouth in a have a nice day kind of way. Nobody’s ever called me on it you know? Take care of what? Well, er…yourself. In what way..? Um…don’t fall down a hole..? I dunno.
It’s wallpaper, right? An expression used so often that we hardly notice it, and we certainly don’t think of it as advice. It just doesn’t land in that way…shame really, because as advice goes, it’s pretty solid.
I was doing fine before my time off…my food plan was working, I was happy making good choices and felt really bedded in to this journey. Focusing on myself this week though has definitely made me feel like I’ve kicked it up a notch you know? I’ve raised the bar on what good looks like, and I’ve been taking care of me. I wonder what that looks like though once I’m back in my real life, where I’m more limited in the amount of time I have to focus on myself.
So I’m usually at least nine hours in the office each day with a one hour commute either side – that keeps the wolf from the door, and pays the bills. I usually need around six or seven hours sleep at night and then there’s family stuff, friends stuff, house stuff, blog stuff…well. If the Asshole voice could be bothered he’d bang the no time for exercise drum, but he seems to be relatively mute at the moment.
Let’s just wait and see…not finding time isn’t really an option given my pending appointment with the mountain, so for the first time in my life I’m turning my back on the excuse, not the hard yards…who’d have thought it mm? Seriously, I don’t know how I’m going to fit it all, but I will. On the upside I’m not going to have time to fantasise about hob-nobs 🙂
I always said when I hit fifty I’d consider that I’d earned the stripes which allowed me to do what the chuff I wanted, when I wanted and in the way I wanted. Somehow, in my head I always envisaged that would play out by me taking a nosedive into eccentricity and withdrawing the shit I once gave about sensible stuff. Had you told me I’d be favouring healthy eating and exercise I’d have written you off as a nutter, and if you’d so much as hinted at the possibility of me trekking over mountains in some exotic land I’d have signed your funny farm papers personally.
Strange how stuff turns out isn’t it?
