OYM Day 72: The Morning Fight
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How many minutes do you have each morning before the reality of the day sets in? Or is it seconds? Or do you live in a reality that you delight in, without anxiousness or worry?
I have about 1–2 minutes, personally. Most mornings I’ll wake up to the sound of my cat meowing at the door or my face, depending on if I remember to close the door. I’ll stumble out of bed to feed him and return to the safety of my comforter, out of the icy blast of air conditioning. Then, before picking up my phone to read about world events or people on social media that I know too much about but don’t regularly speak to, it greets me.
I’ll see an object. Perhaps a granola bar wrapper on my side table. Shame of late night snacking sets in. Or I’ll see a book on the floor, one given to me over a month ago, it’s cover still firm, not creased from an opening. I feel guilty about not having the energy to read as much as I used to. I make a note to try and read while the baby naps.
This morning I see myself in the mirror on my walk back to my covers. I fell asleep in my clothes and my old mascara is smudged around my eyelids, a reminder that I tried to look alive yesterday. The thought that I tried feeds my fire of shame. “I should just be naturally beautiful,” I think to myself.
I lay back in bed, but know the factory wheels in my brain have been fired up already, and going back to sleep is futile. My watch says 5:47am and I tell myself I’ll use this time productively.
I’ll walk the dog. I’ll write. I’ll enjoy my cup of coffee. I’ll read that unopened book. I’ll order some serum to make my eyelashes fuller. I’ll brush my hair and tell myself I don’t regret cutting it off. I’ll stumble through social media and silently judge everything I see, based off of my own shortcomings and insecurities.
Now 8 minutes have passed and my list has grown much longer than anticipated. The amount of things I need and want to do overwhelms me. I slip back into my covers and let the subtle rush of caffeine and pressure take the reigns. I daydream of running through the woods, waving sticks like swords, without an ounce of physical awareness and an insatiable desire to explore. A time when my body was a vessel and life was the first night of a carnival.