Taming the Beast

Do I really need to go through this routine every single morning?

I’ve been secretly judging Lucy about struggling with her morning routine every… single… morning. Every day it’s the same, and has been for years. The alarm goes off… sit up… take a drink of green juice (this not only wakes her up but makes her need to poop which turns out is an excellent motivator to get out of bed). Once she has pooped and in the bathroom it’s always the same – take her asthma medicine, brush teeth, do hair. It is then back to the room to get dressed, make bed, and tidy her room (this is last on the list and is a hit or miss… usually a miss). It is then off for breakfast downstairs after putting on her socks and shoes. This is the same routine that happens every single day and it feels like we need to reinvent it every single time. Why is this so hard, I wonder? Why is this such a struggle? Again, I’ve been secretly judging her. I’ve been judging the struggle.

This is where a good look in the mirror both is extremely helpful and pisses me off. Why must judgments always come back to bite us in the ass? Why what I’m making wrong in you always something I’m not ready to see in myself? Easier to see it in you and judge the shit out of you, than to own this for myself. So, yes, this is a great tactic of judging the shit out of the 9 year old when it’s my own struggle I can’t seem to own or even see. Truth – it’s my struggle. Every single day I have the same war, the same battle, the same inner fight… to make it to the page. I haven’t been winning lately. I let the enemy, the devil, the beast or whatever we want to call procrastination or resistance or fear or the thing that keeps us from our craft, our love, our sharing with the world. What is a good name for this? I think I will use beast. Beauty and the Beast keeps coming to me, so I’ll borrow the Beast for now.

The Beast is the one that tricks me… every single day.

Each day it’s like I start all over with the battle. Like in a video game where your character dies and starts back at the beginning each time. I am Pacman that is frantically eating away at the dots, or in my case getting works no the page, and the fucking ghosts or Beast keeps kicking the shit out of me. And it’s SO tricky. I don’t always recognize it. AND on the good days when I do recognize it, sometimes I still don’t win. Almost the case this morning, if it wasn’t for an intervention.

I woke up this morning slowly. I knew from the sounds of Otis, my 6 year old Boxer, downstairs waking up that it must be close to 5am. He has an internal clock for feeding times that is beyond accurately ridiculous. Nope, not yet, I thought. I closed my eyes knowing that was it for sleep. Once I start stirring, it’s all over. Kelly got up first this morning and heading downstairs to feed the dogs, make our morning green juice and tea for me, coffee for her. In what felt like a nanosecond, there she was with the cold cup of greens and the hot cup of tea… bless her. And the dogs right behind ready for their morning snuggle session. This has been our compromise, no more sleeping on the bed at night, but they can come up and snuggle after breakfast. I don’t know if this compromise is harder on me or them… but I digress.

I sat up and started drinking my green juice and then quickly it began – the war. “I should write,” I think to myself. Arghhh and I quickly talk myself out of it. “I should at least journal or read,” I think and quickly talk myself out of it. I’ve done this same thing for months. And here is the crazy thing, these are things I love to do. I love to read and somehow I can’t seem to open the book. Strange. And I love journaling. I’ve been doing it since high school and now the pages remain empty. There is always a great excuse – I want to talk to Kelly first, I want to spend this time with her, I’m tired, my book is boring, my journal is downstairs, and the list goes on. I reason that I just can’t seem to get myself organized and before I know it my morning time is gone and I haven’t done what I say I want to do – meditate, journal, and read.

Kelly and I have a great conversation and she mentions that she would like to do yoga every day before our wedding. We are eloping in exactly one month – on November 11. I’m envious. I want this commitment, not to yoga, but to me, to journaling, writing or something. Where has my drive gone? My perseverance? My grit? It all seems to be gone and I can’t seem to get anything done. We talk about this and decide to do this commitment together. Every day for the next month we will do some form of moving our bodies together. It may be yoga, walking, workout class, dancing or something we haven’t even considered. I think about it, yes, this sounds amazing. I love it. I’m in.

Before we know it, it’s 6:45am and the yoga class starts at 7:05am. Let’s do it. We jump out of bed and make it to the YMCA at 7:03am. How about that? We are even early. It is so good. Why do I keep telling myself I don’t like yoga? Why do I think of it as an hour of battling the clock for it to be over? I really did enjoy it today. So, we win at this today. I feel great in my body, strong, accomplished, centered, and present. I decide I’m going to write every day until our wedding. If I can get up and do yoga, I can certainly write. I’m doing this. Today, I will win!

I get home and immediately start cleaning.

Fuck, just writing the word cleaning makes me remember that there is laundry in the washer that needs to go into the dryer. It’s like a very insane itch that needs to be scratched. Every cell in my body wants to get up and switch the laundry. Arghh… it is plaguing me. But no. I am not getting up until I have written at least 1,500 words. This is how I will win today. So, yes, I immediately pick up around the house, fold the clothes, move the Christmas packages that have been in my office for a week. I could go on but you get the point. I spend the next hour cleaning and this time I see it.

I know I am procrastinating. I feel the energy and it feels annoying.

I feel irritated that I have to clean. I’m getting annoyed at our messy house and here is the thing. I’m not annoyed at the house. None of this bothered me this morning or the day before or the day before that. I’m irritated that I’m losing. My heart is calling to write and I’m letting the Beast win, instead I’m cleaning. I straighten the house, do the laundry, organize, and then my phone rings. Perfect timing! I was almost out of things to clean. I begin talking and what comes up? Writing! We talk about writing, about the Beast, and I know it is still winning and I’m letting it. I’m now talking on the phone and cleaning so it least this feels a bit more productive. I’m trying to convince myself I’m not losing, but I am. The Beast is winning again. I walk to the kitchen and get out our carpet cleaner. As I was talking I noticed a stain on the carpet. I thought I’d work on it while I was talking. As I’m wetting the rag Kelly comes over and gently takes it out of my hand. She sets it down and takes the cleaner from me. I’m still on the phone and this doesn’t matter to her. I know what she’s doing and I let her. She steers me out of the kitchen and down the hall. She plops me in my chair in the office. She knows I’m losing. I’m slightly irritated. Ummm… hello? I’m an adult and can get myself into the office myself. But, I know it’s not true. I haven’t been able to get myself to write in a week. I know I need help. Just as Lucy needs help each morning completing her routine. She too struggles, we all do.

I come back to the Spiritual Psychology principle, “How you relate to the issue, is the issue.” I’ve been mistaken. The issue isn’t the struggle. The issue isn’t about Lucy doing her routine each morning. The issue isn’t really about how many words I write. The issue is how I’m relating to it. How am I relating to the struggle? How am I being with myself as I struggle. Here is where I get to learn from the 9 year old. She shows up every day ready for battle. She just does it every single day. Every day it is a struggle, every day she battles with her mind and getting distracted and every day she shows up and does it. She doesn’t beat herself up. She doesn’t judge herself. She doesn’t resist being supported and helped. She just does it. What if I showed up this way for myself? What if I let it be a struggle and still did it? What if I let myself be a beginner at the struggle each day? What if I allowed myself to struggle and write? Sounds like a huge relief to me. The relief is that I don’t have to make this such a battle. I don’t have to break myself down each day, every day, until I make it to the desk.

I don’t have to kick my ass in the process. I can know this is a struggle.

Everyone deals with this. And so many don’t end up writing the book, or the song, or the art. It’s not about how good it is or what it is, the point is that I do it. The real deal is that I find my way to the desk, to the empty page and let myself express. This is how I show up. This is how I let my heart sing each day. Yes, there will be a struggle and a million things that scream for my attention on the way to the office. And will I do it? Turns out, I’m great once I get my butt in the seat. Guess I need a little help from my friends to get there. Maybe Kelly does need to put me in the chair each morning. Is that so bad? We need to wake Lucy up every morning and the thing is, there is actually nothing wrong with that. Each day she does get up and makes it to school. She does do her morning routine every day and she loves herself through the struggle. Me too, kid. Me too. I will get some help and support, and I know I too will struggle with the morning routine. But I know how to get a bit closer to winning and how to do it in a way that is kind and loving and not such an ass to myself. And here we are, 1,973 words. Today I win.