So I've fallen in to a slump. The aftermath of all the internal drama has led me to this place, where I spend my free time doing anything I can to avoid finishing cleaning up the mess that was made from the youngest child's exodus and focusing my attention on my own interests.
Some of my good habits are hanging in there, but some are struggling for air. When I'm home, I've become enamoured with the idea that my time is all mine. I am moving through my evenings, reveling in the moment of doing 5 little things in an evening without any interruptions but that of the distractions of my own making (see above opening statement). So now, rather than ousting myself from bed at 5:15 every morning to do yoga and go for a pre-dawn run, I get out of bed (I still can't sleep in??!) and leisurely make coffee, smoothies and lunch while cleaning the kitchen of the previous night's dirty dishes. Don't get me wrong; these are not bad things. The problem is that as I move throughout my day and especially my week, I feel the effects of lapsed physical discipline.
This Sunday evening, after a day including a leisurely morning lie-in with my husband, a decadent couple's breakfast of french nog toast with a side of turnip and sweet potato hash, and a noon walk with a friend, I'm sitting in sweats, drinking tea, eating chocolate and cookies that are upsetting my stomach and watching a silly movie. I could be productive with my time, but in this aftermath, I think it is equally important for me to just settle in and get adjusted to this little life I have finally acquired.
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