Sixty nine weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 234
- Blood Sugar: 109
Up a little less than a pound. No cute shrugging emojis this week, it’s time to start actively getting back into a routine. The election is over and even though the baby hasn’t conceded yet, the vote went the way I wanted it to, and to continue to not focus on myself is just hubris at this point (and it always was, I have no control over anything, but I’ll give myself a pass for the last few weeks).
Less than thrilled with the blood sugar, but just keeping an eye on it.
The worst part of my semester is over, all the classes are on staggered schedules now, and I shouldn’t be overwhelmed with grading anymore (as long as I keep on top of it every day, which I’m pretty good about). So it’s time to start cutting out a chunk of the day for activity and gym time. And also, it’s time to start cutting out another chunk of the day for writing and another chunk for reading. Even just an hour for each would be plenty, and maybe I could start making progress on things again. Writing it here to hold myself accountable for it next week.
Have I mentioned I’m never teaching six classes again? I’m never teaching six classes again. I am never teaching six classes again.
Three things I’m grateful for:
- I’ve been despondent over the last five days or so about the nearly 72 million Americans, several of whom I love, who voted for white supremacy last week. But I’m so incredibly grateful for the nearly 77 million Americans who rejected it (and the misogyny, and the unchecked capitalism, and the science-ignoring insanity, and on, and on).
- I’m grateful for snoring dogs, who are a constant reminder that my life is amazing.
- I’m grateful for my students. I just heard from an old favorite of mine, asking for a letter of recommendation for grad school and my heart just filled with pride. This must be kind of similar to what parents feel during those benchmark celebrations.
I’m good this week. There’s still plenty of shit to be stressed about, but at some point, you have to stop using that shit as an excuse not to take care of yourself (and then, you know, just take care of yourself). I’ve spent the last several weeks worrying (about the election and so many other things as well), and I realized yesterday that the worrying I was doing was just habit, and that it was okay to stop. And it probably always was, but I was incapable of perceiving that until yesterday. So there’s a fourth thing for the list above: I’m grateful for my ability to distinguish between legitimate worry and worrying for the sake of worrying. Enough.
Here, have a graphic: