As Good As I Once Was

Since walking away from corporate life nine months ago, I’ve given up a toxic habit: the alarm clock.

My mornings have since been defined by my eyes butterfly-flitting open, my mind sparkler-lighting on, a cat dough-kneading my belly, then letting my lanky limbs perform a stretch-Armstrong X formation across our king-size bed. 

But wait! No alarm?! Then WHAT time do you get up?! You ask like a programmed anal-retentive American…My answer? Calm down. Just the same as always. See, my internal clock just KNOWS. Just like my intuition. Never fails me.

I’m up every day around 6:30 or 7 - like always. The difference is, now I’m starting with a deep through-the-nose breath, a nuzzle hug from my velveteen pup, and I just take a moment. [...long pause...] Instead of turning directly to my calendar to sum up the back-to-back hours of hooked-into-the-matrix virtual meetings, I stop to THINK about the watercolor picture of a day I'd like to paint. One scene I know for sure will make its mark is a bistro table coffee with my husband, a ritual longer standing than our marriage itself (and maybe even the secret ingredient to our time-defying bliss). We’ve even given it a name: our “micro date”. Let me tell you, microdosing quality time with your spouse paired with caffeine (or wine) is a combo so good I can’t believe a book hasn’t been written on the subject. Opportunistic me says I’ll add it to my to-do list…

But I digress. Thing is, rituals have become my newest BFFs. I’ve decided if there’s anything that I want to insert into my lifestyle long-term, I should "package" it as a ritual and I will most likely hang on for the long-haul. Make it beautiful, smell good, or feel good, and I’ll fall deeply, madly, couture-fashion-label-level in love. See, the element of control mixed with sensory appeal just gets me every time. Case and point: my don't-be-a-cactus hydro-monitor water bottle. Pretty little thing is now covered in motivational stickers and it’s fueling me with 32 ounces before noon and another 32 before dinner (or more!!). Honestly, it’s like MAGIC for a girl with a deadly triple shot hydration habit: breakfast shot of espresso, lunch shot of San Pellegrino, and dinner double shot - er, healthy pour - of red wine. OK, stop judging me. At least I'm on a mish NOW to make up for lost time. Bottoms up!!

So why all this attention to rituals? Because I'm scared as all hell that all of the good habits I've picked up will evaporate like a Cinderella midnight ballgown as soon as I return to "normal life" post-chemo and I won't be as good as I once was. Irrational fear? Perhaps. But fear nonetheless. I mean, I've finally started eating like I always should have - plant-based, special-occasion-only desserts, nearing 100 oz of water each day. Oh, and I'm practically a teetotaler [or as close as an Italian-American can get]. I take regular 1-mile walks, ample mamma-needs-a-moment baths, and I actually TALK regularly on the phone to catch up with friends... Here I am becoming the best version of ME!! How long can I POSSIBLY keep this up...?? 

Like every other negative thought that attempts to plant roots like a worry weed in my happy garden, I'm trying to pluck it out and instead feed the good stuff. Logic (my longest standing never-let-me-down friend) says that since I've been following these new rituals for nearly 3 months, they should stick. Of course I'll have to nurture them, but I should be a changed woman. The upsides of a functioning digestive system, glowing skin, and dependably deep sleep should help me hold onto the reins of the proverbial health wagon, no? 

I guess if I ever need a pick-me-up, I can daydream about all of the beautiful rituals just around the bend waiting for me - like brushing aside my curl-pixie bangs from my eyes to stare at my strong, healthy girls as they march chin-held-high through life.

All of this because I know the ritual of every 3rd week chemo is ALMOST behind me; I'll know for sure tomorrow. So don't double dog dare me now, 'cause I'd have to call your bluff. I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was.