Last night I was so anxious I was jumping out of my skin. My legs had that “restless leg syndrome” (which prior to being pregnant was something I thought was made up to get more money from workers comp) and I was, simply, quite on edge. This was compounded by the fact that I knew I was on edge and had no idea why. Kinda like when you know you’re going crazy and you just can’t stop. Don’t tell me you haven’t had THAT feeling before.
So, a poor night’s sleep later, I feel ten times better. My only solution seems to be that my morning was mine. And it was glorious.
When I was in college, I had a self-imposed “2 hour rule” (have I mentioned my rule-driven nature?) where I was up ‘n at ’em 2 hours before I needed to be somewhere. This allowed a leisurely cup of coffee, some morning reading and contemplation, shower and time to do those other morning-things that normal people do. In my youth director life, I followed a similar morning pattern, allowing for even more than 2 hours because, well, youth directors don’t have to be in the office so early.
I’m not going to blame the kiddo for my lack of morning ritual; he likes to sleep in as much as the rest of us. I will, however, blame the workplace for requiring a start time of such a god-forsaken hour of 8am. On days I take the little one to the sitter I have to be out the door by 7:20 and 2o minutes prior to that I’m trying to get HIM ready. For those of you who, like me, don’t partake in math, that’s a 5:20 awakening if I wanted to be true to the rule. NFW. (Older people, that’s “no freaking way” in youth-speak. I’m sure. But don’t consult Urban Dictionary on me). I had an account manager who used to get there at 5. I’m sure JJ would divorce me if that were the case – not because I would be gone so much but because I’d be such a basket case when I am home.
I need my morning time. I’m a better person when I don’t talk to anyone until after this ritual. I won’t cal it “me time” because it’s not about me. It’s about focus, clarity. When I have a chance to simply be, I realize that the things that are about to bombard me are really minuscule in the greater scheme of life. I remember what is most important. I’m thankful. I’m aware. I’m even ready to meet challenges for the sake of growth.
I don’t have a solution; I’ll be at my desk by 8am for probably the next 5.5 weeks. However, at least I have an idea of what’s steering me toward the nuthouse every once in a while, and maybe I’ll be able to rectify it here and there. Until then, I’ll just have to relish the perspective I find as carve out these small, golden nuggets of time.