Don't f**k with my routine

…hour by hour got me to day by day

Does anyone else have a routine engraved in their brain? The deviation from which, will send your day into absolute disarray? I do. I love the idea of spontaneity, but realistically it's not the vibe for 80% of my week. It doesn’t sound like the most fun existence but I can assure you, the excitement of fulfilling these commitments I have made (mostly to myself) is thrilling! Firstly, let me caveat this with I have 0 offspring and work a 100% remote 9-5. Living the dream…(did the sarcasm translate?)

These are my Monday to Friday non-negotiables, as far as my daily regimen is concerned:

• 7am: Wake up

• 7:30am: Workout

• 8:30am: Take bubs for her walk

• 9am: Log into work

• 11am: Breakfast

• 2:30pm: Lunch

• 5:30pm: Log out of work

• 6:00pm: Write or run

• 7:30pm: Dinner

• 8:30-10:30pm: Family time

• 11:00pm: Bed

What is it about having a routine that allows me to thrive? 

Is it the not having to think about it element (a la tech billionaire same outfit everyday concept)? 

The visible progress (working out = liking the way I look and feel)?

The structure creating a sense of stability (something I’ve craved my entire life)? 

Obviously, I think it's a combo of all of these otherwise I wouldn’t have typed them out. But I think the underpinning impetus is I like caring. To care about myself beyond maintaining my existence on this floaty, gyrating wet brick of a planet. To push to be more than a sub par splatter of incoherence. It feels good to care about life. 

Shock horror, this wasn’t always the case. For many moons, to misquote Ruth from Ozarks, I didn't give a shit about fuck (other than making sure Khleo was taken care of and work was working). To say I was coasting would undermine coasting. It's an almost offensive understatement to refer to what I was doing. 

I was just sad. Really sad (hi depression). There were a few months in 2020 that were the most idyllic pockets of time I have ever experienced. Enchanting. And then every semblance of light and happiness got sucked out in a series of swift satanic swoops. I devoted all of my care and tried my fucking hardest. It didn’t help. I did not reap what I sowed. The worst still happened. And it decimated my heart. A total annihilation. The universe had put me back in my place. I didn’t know I could feel the pain I felt. The dense darkness in every millimetre of my body weighing me down like a tonne of deteriorating slabs of concrete. And I was just crumbling away, little pieces of me falling off as I waited for the temporary relief of unconsciousness. So I stopped caring.

Life feels plump now. Like a swollen, meaty, juicy peach. Yum. I still carry all of the pain (therapy needed but therapy expensive) so this peach shall remain bruised for the foreseeable (how long can I keep this metaphor going? lol). 

Let’s pop a pin in the peach and circle back to routine. Like I previously mentioned, routine doesn’t exactly pulsate with va va voom vim. Routine and monotony typically go hand in hand because of the lack of impulsive variety. 

Some days I do feel like a cog in the capitalist machine. Hacking away at my keyboard. Google meets galore. Smacking a smile on (although what I thought was smiling is actually just 2% of minor muscle movement in my face). Some days I’m bored of the same dinners. The weekly trip to the same supermarket to get the ingredients for those same dinners. And some days I wish Khleo wouldn’t poop in 8 different places but do one stationary defecation evacuation. These feelings are always fleeting though. They don’t remain because they’re trivial compared to what was. I live in the moment but how can I continually be grateful for my merry mundanity without remembering the turbulent misery? I don’t do this intentionally but it is what it is. The past is alive in my memories.

Predictability is stabilising. Stability is comforting and I use this as my foundation to work from. 

In the early days of my sobriety (I’m 164 days today - September 23rd 2023), I focused on the task at hand to get through the hour. Then moved onto the next task, then the next. I even added in random things that I’d never usually do just to build out my day (baking Sundays, fridge organisation, cupboard organisation, incline walks, revamped my workspace, up-cycled my desk, attended all the meetings, did 90% of the cooking, meal prep, smoothies, new hair care routine, tidying EVERYTHING, this list really does go on).

A lot of these tasks fell away, some remained. Building a routine tailored to my lifestyle and personality was invaluable to my sobriety. Increasing my self worth was just a happy accident.