At 12:30 a.m. last night when I should have been sleeping, it looked like I was packing for a weekend vacation.
I had three bags on my floor ready for this morning: my school bag, my gym bag, and my bag that held all my clothes in it so I could shower after the gym.
I had a phone interview for a story I am writing at 8:30 a.m, followed by an appointment with E (my therapist) at 9 a.m, and a whole day of things to do after that, meaning if I wanted to workout, it literally had to be at 6 a.m before any of that happened, and it meant showering and getting ready at the gym.
Because I knew I was going to dinner tonight for my cousins birthday, and still being slightly in the post Thanksgiving state of mind, Ed and I packed those bags last night with the stone cold intention of using them for their purpose; to go workout at 6 a.m today.
But when I woke up, tired and exhausted, I looked at all those bags on the floor and thought to myself, “what are you doing?”
I knew if I went, Ed would just take over me for the day.
I couldn’t go.
Going would mean choosing Ed over recovery. Going would mean sacrificing my need of sleep in order to workout, and that is not in the recovery guidelines.
So I didn’t go and I ditched my 6 a.m. workout for sleep.
I went back to sleep for an extra two hours.
When I woke up again, and hated my body check in the mirror and then realized I still have to of course eat today and go to dinner later, Ed was wide awake with me.
I walked into E’s office almost not able to spit out my anxiety fast enough. Ed was in charge for a little while.
But as I sit here now writing this, I write to you after not only enjoying that dinner with my family and the dessert that we had with it, but also writing to you and about to tell you that I had a really great day.
When I was at dinner, I got an e-mail from this top official at my university who is going to do an interview with me. This interview will give me what I need so I can write the last and final cover story for my university newspaper for the fall semester, a huge honor in itself.
He chose to interview with me; he asked to do the story with me.
This was a huge moment.
That dinner with my family, celebrating my cousin’s birthday,and eating the yummy dessert with everyone was already me outshining Ed, but getting this interview is the sweetest icing on top of this cake ever.
It made me almost forget that I didn’t workout today.
So, long story short, I survived today. While Ed told me I would have a break down all because I didn’t workout, I didn’t; so far from it.
Instead, I studied in the library with my friends (let me not forget to mention the social eating aspect of that which includes studying junk food, but nonetheless, a social part of recovery), I had dinner with my family and celebrated a birthday, and I got this last and final interview so I can write the last cover story of the semester.
Ed didn’t have any part in that.
If I listened to Ed today, I probably would not have gone to the library and brought snacks for my friends and I.
I would not have gone to the dinner (and trust me, I was thinking about it).
And I probably wouldn’t have even cared that I got this interview.
But I didn’t listen to him.
And therefore, I am able to feel proud of myself for these mini accomplishments today.
There will be no more episodes of multiple bags sitting on my floor to go workout at 6 am anymore.
I come first.
Hello to ditching the 6 a.m workouts and hello life.