Monday, October 6, 2014

Me Time: A Change In Perspective

October 6th, Monday. I tuckered out last night at around 12 and knew that tomorrow was going to be rough. I haven't been getting enough sleep during the weekdays, partially because I always feel anxious about coming to work the next day.

I thought I was going to break the commitment before it even started when I woke up at around 5am, that is, after already tossing and turning in between. I tried to go back to sleep, half slept, and woke up at 5:30. I looked at the alarm set on my phone: 6:00am. I only had 30 minutes left to sleep. To hell with this, I'm not working out. I need more than 30 minutes to survive the rest of the day. It was, after all, a Monday.

I couldn't sleep after that. I looked at the clock: 5:50. Out of nowhere, something inside me pushed myself out of bed, and I suddenly found myself putting on a sports bra, workout pants, socks, until finally, I was in my Nike's.

I told myself that I was going to start slow. The reason I gave up a workout routine was because I pushed myself too hard, thinking I could do it. I don't need Tania. I can totally do the entire thing without the modifier. And when I realized that I couldn't, I threw in the towel and said to hell with it.

Not this time. I was going to swallow my pride, listen to my body, and go slow.

I followed Tania the entire time. And it felt great.

That was, until after the cool down. I was ready to begin my day, when I realized how freaking nauseated I felt. I knew I had to quickly prepare my breakfast (oatmeal and bananas), but I could barely walk to the kitchen. When I realized how unfit I was, the familiar feeling of demotivation started setting in.

And with it came other negative emotions, like job dissatisfaction, feeling tired and sick, and wishing that I could just stay in and go back to sleep. Ugh, I had to work after hours today, too. And it's only 6:45.

But I knew I had no choice. I had to keep moving, so I did. I made breakfast, but could only take a couple of bites. I've always skipped breakfast, and this is something that I've been working on to make a daily non-negotiable. I kept my leftover oatmeal in a container and stored it in the fridge for tomorrow.

My day went by quickly, but I only saw the slightest difference in energy, not so much in mood. My husband said it would probably take a week -- maybe more -- to see a real difference. I'll try to be patient.

Tonight, there's that familiar feeling of dreading the next day again, especially since I knew I had to continue waking up 30 minutes earlier to be able to get the workout in. I used to work out after work, but since I have been doing overtime, I knew that wouldn't be much of a commitment and more like wishful thinking. Besides, I do chores, cook, and clean when I get home.

A realization just literally came through: I basically work the entire freaking day. My job starts at 7:30 and ends at 4:30. After that, I either get home or do errands. When I get home, I cook and clean. It never stops.

In other words, I think I made the right decision to wake up 30 minutes early to start my day with "Me Time", my workout. If I could keep that perspective, I think I would feel more motivated to continue.

Saying it one more time, in front of the mirror: 6:00-6:30am working out = Me Time. You're doing this for you.

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