As expected, my routines took a hit. I used to lift weights; I used to have a pretty standard set of actions. But adult life makes it harder, made it harder, continues to make it difficult, the action of keeping a pattern. I’m not so much a creature of habit, and I’m certainly not one to keep to schedules, but I did have a routine to some degree. A pattern of timing that worked. And made me feel like I knew what my day might be like, or at least not feel a constant state of disrupted confusion.

But that’s gone out the window since the move. 

I’m simply juggling more balls now and sometimes they come crashing down around my ears.

I am hopeful though, that I can find a new normal sooner rather than later. That I can establish some semblance of logic to how I run my life. I’ve grown up, it seems, taken on more, and living with more things to do, but I need a sense of internal pattern and running of a day, or I can’t be as efficient.

And with even more problems to solve, figuring out a routine becomes its own problem to deal with by itself.

And I’m sure you can see how vicious a cycle that is.

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Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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