Motivation

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February 28, 2013

Evolution

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Addiction, Alcoholism, Diet, Exercise & Fitness, Health, Motivation, Nutrition, Sobriety, Weight Loss, Wine | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |
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Tempranillo varietal wine bottle and glass, sh...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I follow a lot of blogs written by alcoholics in recovery. According to my therapist, and by my own assessment, I am not an alcoholic. I am an abuser of alcohol, however. No one has told me this; they don’t have to. I know.

I go through phases of drinking a glass or two of wine every night. I go through phases of not drinking during the week and limiting my intake to the weekend. Sometimes the weekend is Friday and Saturday. Sometimes it includes Sunday. And on occasion, when I’ve opened a new bottle of red and haven’t finished it on Sunday, it stretches into Monday. How can I toss this somewhat pricey bottle of wine? And if I wait until Friday, it will go bad. Usually, I don’t play that game and I don’t open a new bottle of red on Sunday. I have a glass of white, which will keep, or I have nothing. And many nights, I do have nothing. At times I do pour the last of the bottle out.

Then there are the times when I go weeks, months, or once, an entire year, without drinking. These periods generally are prompted by my desire to reduce my caloric intake. Rarely have I curtailed my drinking because I’m concerned about turning into a “real alcoholic.” A “real alcoholic”?, you ask. Yes, you know the type: the alcohol controls them; they do not control the alcohol. They drink every day, starting in the morning because they have the shakes. They need a little something to take the edge off. They drink on their lunch breaks, and eventually hide bottles in their desk drawers. They have trash bags of empty beer cans or bottles piled up in the garage. They don’t eat. They’re in poor health. They fall and hit their heads and nearly bleed out. They don’t care for their pets. They lose their wives, their jobs. But they don’t lose their homes because their mother and father enable them. Eventually, after several attempts at rehab, they die of cirrhosis. Or maybe, against all odds, they achieve sobriety.

Or they’re the type of alcoholic who binge drinks. They hold down jobs and provide for their families. They’re intelligent and charming and fun. But once they’ve had a few, they can’t stop. And when they don’t stop, they become mean. Violent. They abuse their children both physically and verbally. They break down doors. Their faces turn red and their veins bulge on their necks. You hide from them in the attic off your closet until the house gets quiet. The next day, they apologize. They give you gifts. They’re truly remorseful.

These are the kinds of alcoholics I’ve known.

Because of this, because alcoholism is in my blood, I monitor myself carefully. Sometimes I feel guilty when I drink. Why do I do it when it’s caused so much misery in my life and in the lives of those closest to me? Because I can. Because it’s easier in this culture to drink, than not.

But I read your bogs. I see how your lives change when you don’t drink. I see how different things are without the crutch. You go to social functions and you don’t rely on a drink or two to loosen up; to feel comfortable. You never have a hangover. You don’t turn to a glass of wine when you’ve had a hard day. You play with the dog. You run. You write. You create. You relate. You cope. You cope without the bottle.

You are you.

My therapist told me yesterday, when I confessed I’ve gotten back into the habit of having a glass of wine every night (and sometimes two, but I did not tell her this):

“Alcohol is a primitive way to fix the nervous system.”

She suggested I try a more modern approach: meditation. Ten minutes in the morning and ten minutes in the evening when I return home. Meditation instead of wine.  No wine six days a week. A glass or two one day a week. (But what about the rest of the bottle? I might last a week, but it won’t!) The 6/1 meditation program.

Fine, I’ll try it. But I was going to meditate for 50 days in a row, anyway, culminating on my 5oth birthday. I suppose I could start early.

But here’s the deal: I’m currently on a plane to Tucson. It’s a lawyer continuing education boondoggle. How am I to begin not drinking (save one day a week) at a lawyer boondoggle weekend? Lawyers drink. Heavily. Especially whilst boondoggling. And how can I be the only sober boondoggler? I’ll be anxious. And boring. And bored.

Maybe I’ll start Sunday. Or even Saturday. But tonight? And Friday night? On a mother-loving boondoggle?

I’ll have to ponder this evolution thing. In the meantime, we’re about to begin our descent. So I shall wrap up and report back later.

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January 18, 2013

Inspired By My Brother

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Addiction, Alcoholism, Cats, Healing, Health, Intervention, Motivation | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |
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Last night we had an open house at my office. Open house. Open bar. I had several glasses of wine. When I drink now, I feel guilty.

Toward the end of the evening, one of my co-workers and I went back to my office to kick off our shoes and give or feet a much-needed break. My Blackberry was on my desk and I noticed a missed call. It was my brother. I hadn’t spoken with him since his third day in detox, before they moved him down to rehab. I had missed a call from my brother because I was at a party drinking. At that moment, the glass of wine sitting on my desk lost its appeal.

I texted my brother and told him I’d call when I got home. There was a dinner after the party. I skipped it so I could go home and call him. He sounded much better than the last time we had spoken, but sounded as if he still has a long way to go. It struck me then that I thought if he just stopped drinking, cleared out the alcohol from his system, he’d miraculously be well again. I realized as I spoke with him last night, he’s got a long road to recovery. Physical and emotional.

He sounds committed to that recovery.

Good things:

My brother is no longer using a wheelchair. He’s walking! He told me of all the people noticing and excited that he was walking on his own. He’s started physical therapy.

He expressed impatience with the people in his group who sat in the back and paid no attention to what they were learning. “I’m paying good money for this. I’m listening.”

“I have a sponsor.” He seemed quite pleased with himself that he’d taken that step.

He’ll be going to meetings from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm daily for a week or so longer. And then he’ll meet with his group every Saturday, “for a year.”

He told me he’s done this before. He was sober for a year. But he was miserable.

“But now you have support,” I said.

“Yeah. I was a dry drunk.”

He’s learning. And he’s hungry for it.

After our call, I sat outside with a plate of left over ahi tuna and shrimp from the party. I was hoping for some time with Sophie. She’s been coming around more frequently, showing herself. She’s been taking food from my hand for several days, now. She prefers chicken. (I’ll be poaching some more for her tonight.) But I didn’t see her last night. I suppose I’d gotten home too late. But I’ve got a three-day weekend ahead, which will give me plenty of time to make progress with her.

As I sat there waiting for her, I pondered the alcohol guilt. I sometimes drink to excess. I sometimes use alcohol to cope. Sometimes food. I prefer to use writing, exercise, and bubble baths. I’ve been pondering doing the 21-day Fit Food Challenge. Annie (my therapist) suggested it to get me back on track after the holidays. And to keep me from eating the same thing every day, which I tend to do. The challenge means I eat their food for three weeks. No alcohol. I’m having difficulty committing to something so rigid. Including the lack of alcohol. It seems to me if I commit to 21 days of their plan with no alcohol, I’ll be in the perfect position to practice healthier coping skills. So I’m in. I meet with the counselor on Sunday, and get signed up. I’ll start the program Tuesday, after the three-day weekend.

I’ve said it here. Now I have to do it.

It seems I’ve found inspiration in my brother’s ongoing recovery.

 

March 24, 2012

Redecorating the Bachelorette Pad: Part I

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Getting Unstuck, Healing, Interior Design, Living Life, Mid-Life, Motivation, Moving On, Starting Over | Tags: , , , |
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And so it begins! I’ve hired a painter who starts Wednesday. Right now, I’ve got the Tuscan look. Tan sand-colored walls with a deep brickish-red accent wall. Olive green in the downstairs powder bath. And a horrific deep red in the upstairs guest bath. Oak cabinets in the kitchen.

Here’s where we’re headed:

From Tuscan red to teal (living/dining/kitchen accent wall; in my open-concept condo, these areas flow together):

(more…)

 

March 11, 2012

Television Must Die.

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Antidepressants, Depression, Interior Design, Living Life, Motivation, Starting Over, Travel | Tags: , , , , , , , |
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As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve made a commitment to myself to start living my life. Why I’ve held back (even before the depression), I do not know. But gradually over the past ten weeks, I’ve begun to think bigger about the way I live. The antidepressants surely have helped with that, along with my Ugg-wearing therapist, Annie.

I last saw Annie on Wednesday. Toward the end of the session, after telling me she thinks we can cut back from weekly to every other week, she asked what I’m going to do the next two weeks to live my life. I’ve got plans off in the distance (the Tuscany trip in May) and I’m working on redecorating my home, but Annie meant what am I going to do to live my life today.

The first thing that comes to mind is to watch less tv after work during the week, and write instead. I don’t watch tv a lot, maybe an hour a night to keep me company while I’m having dinner. But why not sit at the dining table and write? Why turn the television on at all? Tv zaps my brain. When the television is on, I’ve checked out. When I was deep in the throes of depression, I’d lie on the sofa and watch hours and hours of television. I didn’t want to do anything else. Except sleep. After hours in front of the television every night, I would prise myself off the sofa, climb the stairs, and get into bed. And I’d stay there. Usually for twelve hours, or so.

 

Perhaps leaving the television off is a way to move farther away from the depression, and toward a life more fully lived.

I’m going to experiment a little. Next week, Monday through Friday, the television is off limits.

And now, I shall go do some living on this day.

 

March 2, 2012

Antidepressants: I’m a Believer.

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Abilify, Abusive Relationships, Breakup, Deplin, Depression, Domestic Violence, Getting Unstuck, Healing, Manipulation, Motivation, Moving On, Wellbutrin | Tags: , , , , , , , |
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Post breakup (back in late September) with an abusive assclown, I found myself deep in the pit a/k/a the abyss, the quicksand, the deep-dark-hole-of-nothingness. When Dr. McEnroe suggested antidepressants, I must admit I was quite skeptical. I’ve read all the articles about them being no better than placebo and causing horrific side effects. And I’m generally against medication of any sort on principle.

But I knew I had to do something, so I relented. As the days passed, I began to feel better. I found it less difficult to get out of bed in the morning. I felt a little less hopeless. I stopped hunkering down at home, avoiding social interaction. I started sleeping better. I had more energy. My motivation improved. And most importantly to me, the brain fog began to clear.

Now that I can think clearly, I see just how off I’d been cognitively (in addition to emotionally). I’d been struggling with completing projects. I couldn’t stay focused. I had a hard time following substantive discussions and responding appropriately. I thought I was just distracted and needed to try harder to focus. But now that my mind is sharp once again, I can see it was the depression. These past few weeks, it feels as if I’ve gotten back the fire, completing work projects with gusto. Yes, this girl is back. And maybe even better than before.

Even better than before, you say? Yes. Better. Case in point: I cleaned out my closet. Yes, the dreaded master bedroom, walk-in closet. I filled two of those black trash bags with clothes, and a third with shoes and handbags. I didn’t struggle over what to keep and what to toss. I made the decision, bahm, and moved on to the next item. They’re now in my trunk, ready for drop-off at Good Will. And this weekend, I’m going to weed the garden. I love pulling weeds; the sound and feel of the roots releasing the earth. Good stuff.

This all feels a bit manic to me. For most, I’m guessing it’s normal. It’s nice to feel other people’s normal.

If you’re interested in what I began taking, when, read the paragraph below. If not, you might want to skip on down below to my nod to Davy Jones.

I started on 150 mg of Wellbutrin and 15 mg Deplin on December 22, 2011. Three weeks later, on January 12, 2012, Dr. McEnroe bumped me up to 300 mg Wellbutrin (continuing with the 15 mg of Deplin). Three weeks after that, on Feb. 2, he added 1 mg of Abilify to the mix. Abilify? An anti-psychotic? Am I psychotic? While I may have been temporarily insane for dating Mack for a year, no, I’m not psychotic. Apparently, for some, Abilify helps with depression and anxiety. For the first few days I was sleepy and nauseated. Eventually, both side effects disappeared, and I began feeling more energetic and  motivated. (I’ve also been told I’ve been more pleasant to be around.) Four weeks after that, on March 1 (yesterday), I started on 2 mg Abilify. So the current breakfast cocktail is 300 mg Wellbutrin, 2 mg Abilify, 15 mg Deplin. That second milligram of Abilify seems to be the icing on the cake. I feel pretty darn good today.

So after ten weeks on the antidepressants, like Davy Jones:

I’m a believer.

Davy Jones of the Monkees, gone but not forgotten. Click here for the video of I’m a Believer. http://youtu.be/XfuBREMXxts)

 

 

February 18, 2012

Embrace Life

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Abilify, Abusive Relationships, Breakup, Deplin, Depression, Healing, Love, Manipulation, Marriage, Mid-Life, Mindfucking, Motivation, Moving On, Relationships, Settling, Starting Over, Wellbutrin | Tags: , , , , , |
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While I haven’t quite achieved the nirvana depicted in this photo, I’m getting there. The antidepressants no doubt are doing their job. I wouldn’t say I’ve been transformed, but certainly there’s some reconstruction going on. On the antidepressant front, I’m now on 300 mg Wellbutrin, 15 mg Deplin, and recently Dr. McEnroe added 1 mg Abilify. After the breaking-in period, the side effects have been minimal. Although the Abilify does make me extremely nauseated from time to time, particularly when I do yoga. But when I’m nauseated, I don’t want to eat, so I’ll deal with it.

Since beginning the antidepressants, I’ve noticed a significant difference in my self-confidence. Yesterday I had a 4.5 hour meeting with 15  or 20 of my colleagues consisting of heavy-hitting lawyers and members of the judiciary from across the state. I’ve been on this particular committee for a little over a year, and have felt rather intimidated most of the time. But during the past two meetings that has changed. Yesterday I suggested a somewhat controversial addition to the publication the committee is updating, and I (with some help from my subcommittee) held the naysayers at bay, and gained a majority, pushing the change through. Yeah, I’ve come out of my fog. It’s simply amazing how much more confident I feel now that my brain is working well.

Here’s another difference: I’ve booked a solo trip to Tuscany in May. Okay, not entirely solo; I’m joining up with a group. It’s a gourmet cooking trip, and I’ll be staying at a villa somewhere in the Italian countryside between Pisa and Florence. In addition to the cooking classes, there will be trips to Tuscan vineyards, the coast, local villages, and markets. After my 6-night stay at the villa, I’ve planned three additional nights on my own in Florence. I sure hope I have internet access so I can blog my newly-bursting heart out.

I would say I’m back to my old self. But I’m not. I’m feeling entirely new.

 

 

January 8, 2012

Antidepressants–Definitely More Than a Placebo

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Breakup, Deplin, Depression, Getting Unstuck, Love, Motivation, Moving On, Relationships, Running, Starting Over, Wellbutrin | Tags: , , , |
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Today is day 18 of the Wellbutrin/Deplin cocktail. The side effects are calming down (and, alas, my appetite is returning), my sleep is improving, and I don’t feel so damn exhausted. Dare I say it? I’m feeling better. Will it last? Will I regress? Will it get even better? I don’t know. What I do know:

  • I am sleeping so much better.

I’ve slept through the entire night, several nights in a row. I haven’t even gotten up to pee. I haven’t slept through an entire night without waking in years. Usually I wake up at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. and can’t get back to sleep for hours. Sleeping through the entire night, or waking and falling right back to sleep, truly is remarkable. The fact that it keeps happening tells me it’s not a fluke.

  • While my appetite is returning, cravings are not.

In the first few days of taking the medication, I didn’t want to eat. I thought this was terrific. Now, my appetite is returning, but nothing like before. I’m not craving sugar, or carbs, or “bad food,” or alcohol. I don’t think as much about food. And when I do think about food, it isn’t as exciting as it used to be. The conversation in my head will go something like this: “It’s late, and I’m feeling a little hungry. What do I want for dinner? I haven’t had pizza in a long time. Should I stop for a pizza? No, it doesn’t sound good. How about a burger and fries; does that sound good? Nope, it doesn’t. Pasta? Meh. Scrambled eggs? Maybe. I don’t know.” In the past, I wouldn’t let myself eat pizza, or burgers, or fries. Not because it didn’t sound good, but because it’s “bad.” Now, it’s just lost its allure. Before the medication, I was having crazy sugar cravings. Now, they’re gone. Completely. Remarkable. I know Wellbutrin also is used to help smoking cessation. It’s supposed to zap cravings. Let me tell you: it does. No doubt about that.

  • I’ve been more motivated to get outside and exercise, and soak up some Vitamin D.

I love to hike, and Austin has some great spots. But for months I hadn’t had the motivation to get out of bed, let alone lace up my shoes and hit the trial. Last weekend, the holiday weekend, I did a total of just over 20 miles. My trusty Garmin said so. (I love my Garmin!) This weekend, while I didn’t hike, I did do a 5-mile walk/jog yesterday. Today, I’ll either do a repeat, or get on my elliptical and watch a little Dexter. Also, I’ve been getting in two personal training sessions a week. The medication definitely has made it easier to find my motivation.

  • I’m finding it easier to get up in the morning.

I’m no longer feeling like there are tentacles wrapped around my arms and legs, pinning me to my bed. I’m not awakening at 10:00 or 11:00 a.m., wondering “what the hell?” I’m back to awakening with the sunrise. Today it was cloudy, so I slept a little later: 8:30 a.m. But generally, I’ve been awakening at 7:00 a.m. And since I’ve slept through the night, I feel great. I had been getting up telling myself, “I’m so exhausted.” And I was. I’m not feeling so tired now. Even with getting out of bed earlier. If this keeps up, I might just be able to achieve my goal of early morning “runs.” I want to break through week 6 of the Couch to 5k program, which I keep repeating, over, and over, and over. Patience! I’m getting better.

  • I’m not as tearful, crying over every little thing.

Or how about this one:

Yes, I did cry all the way home from work on Tuesday. But I was having withdrawals from a really nice four-day weekend. Other than that, I’ve been less tearful. Okay, I teared up a time or two during the therapy visit with Annie, but nothing like the waterworks two weeks earlier with Dr. McEnroe. (Again, what kind of shrink doesn’t have a box of tissue on his desk?) A little crying is okay. The goal is not to become a stoic. I’m an emotional person. I’d just like to tone it down a little. I think there’s been some improvement.

  • I’m feeling less hopeless. Hopeless – less = Hope.

Maybe there is something beautiful in store for me in the future. Maybe I will find a healthy, happy love. Could it be?

 

January 1, 2012

2012–The World’s Mine Oyster.

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Breakup, Deplin, Depression, Love, Mid-Life, Motivation, Moving On, Relationships, Starting Over, Wellbutrin | Tags: , , , , , |
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Finally. 2011 is in the rearview mirror. I think I’ll be a bad driver for a while, and focus only on the road ahead. Not even a furtive glance back.

The road ahead is looking better and better with each passing day. This Wellbutrin/Deplin combination is pretty amazing. Today is Day Eleven. Eleven. After last year, I’m not liking that number much. Oops, that was a look back. Damn, broke the resolution already, and it’s not even noon. Back to the antidepressant cocktail. The side effects mostly have worn off. Although, last night I had a hot flash whilst cooking dinner. It was 68 degrees in my home and I was overheated. Maybe it’s not the cooking. Maybe it’s the wine-drinking that goes with the cooking. That would make more sense.

Here’s what I’m noticing in the way of positive effects:

  1. I’m sleeping more soundly through the night. (I’ve had a couple of “sex dreams.” Is my libido returning?)
  2. I’m waking up earlier, feeling rested.
  3. I’m able to get out of bed before noon without heroic efforts.
  4. I’ve been motivated to get outside and get some exercise. On Friday, I went for a six-mile hike. On Saturday, a four-mile hike. I didn’t argue with myself. I just went. Willingly. Happily.
  5. I’m finally feeling more social. I went to happy hour with the girls on Friday. I didn’t feel those tentacles around me, pulling me into my home; my bed. In fact, I ate tentacles that night. (Calamari.)
  6. I cleared out the stacks of shipping boxes piling up in my garage and took them to recycling. (Maybe hoarders simply are depressed and can’t be bothered to throw stuff away.)
  7. I cleaned the kitchen last night after I cooked, rather than leaving the dishes in the sink to deal with in the morning. Yeah, pre-depression, no way I would have gone to bed with dirty dishes in my sink.
  8. I cooked dinner last night. I love to cook. But for the past few months, I haven’t done much cooking. I didn’t have the energy and had been eating take-out or prepared food from Whole Foods. Anything requiring no effort. (But no fast food. I had not been sucked that deeply into the quicksand.)
  9. I’ve been able to prise myself off the sofa in the evenings (hell, in the mornings and afternoons, too) without a forklift. I don’t feel so weighted down.
  10. My appetite has returned some, but still I don’t feel the need to devour every morsel like a savage beast. Sugar has lost its allure. (Okay, not entirely.)
  11. I almost (almost) did a stop and chat with my neighbor yesterday afternoon. (The one who told me I’d find a man when I wasn’t looking.) Not quite, but I did feel the desire. Progress.
  12. I wore jeans to work two days last week. An improvement over the workout clothes I’d been wearing daily. I did wear workout clothes on Tuesday, but I had a personal training session that day at noon, so it made sense.

Okay, that’s twelve positive effects for 2012. Who knew all I needed was a good hit of dopamine every day? And it’s not even an illegal drug. I’m curious to see if things will continue to improve. I’m guessing they will, since it’s only Day Eleven. Who knows, maybe I’ll even see my hip bones again this year.

Anything feels possible. The world is mine oyster.

Happy 2012! The Year of the Hip Bones!

 

December 17, 2011

Quit whining and do something.

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Breakup, Getting Unstuck, Mid-Life, Motivation, Moving On, Running, Starting Over | Tags: , , , , , |
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I feel like I’m writing the same thing over and over. And over. I’m tired of looking at the words I’m typing. Mack and I broke up. I’m so sad. I’ll never have another boyfriend. I’ll be alone forever. And on and on. Ad infinitum. Makes me want to vomit the piece of banana nut bread I just ate. Which isn’t a bad idea.

I had a great-grandmother on my mother’s side. She was short and had black and gray hair she wore in a thick long braid, which she’d coil around her head. She was from Croatia. Only it was called Yugoslavia back then. She would say to me, “Pamelita, whenever you have troubles, don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about it; do something about it. Worrying is wasted energy. Use that energy to do something.” I’m paraphrasing here. Maybe she just told me to quit whining about whether the tomato plant we were digging a hole for would grow, and just dig the hole, put it in, and cover up the roots.

Here I am, whining about whether the future holds anything good in store for me. Whining about whether I did the right thing letting go of Mack. Whining about whether I’ll ever run a mile in under fourteen minutes. (I said I was slow.) I need to quit whining and just do something, for fuck’s sake. But what to do? What thing do I want to do to get me feeling like I’m moving toward something? I need a goal. I need a new passion. I need a reason for living. (Yeah, I’m a lawyer, and that’s not cutting it for me.)

There’s something I want to do. But apparently not badly enough, since I haven’t done it yet. Still, I think the perfect way to bust out of this straight-jacket I’m wearing is to get up every morning when it’s still dark and “run.” It sounds so romantic and passionate. And it appeals to the loner in me. I would feel very smug and self-satisfied if I accomplished this. Not to mention I would slim down and maybe break a ten-minute mile.

I wouldn’t have to get up that early. I could get up at 6:00, be out the door by 6:20 (I must have one cup of coffee!), and be back and in the shower by 7:30. I could get in a full hour every morning. Or I could start small and commit to just thirty minutes.

So what’s stopping me? It’s dark. And sort of cold. And there are two purring kitties in my bed. Purring. And fluffy. That’s much harder than getting out of bed when there’s a snoring man next to me. Also, I like to sleep. But often I have trouble sleeping, and so I may have just gotten back to sleep after lying awake for a few hours, when it’s time to get up and run. Of course, regular running should improve my sleep, so upon further examination, that excuse is bogus. I thought I had more excuses, but that’s pretty much it: I want to sleep; it’s dark and kind of cold; and there are purring cats.

Now, why would getting up be a good thing? It’s a test of my mettle. I can drag myself out of bed and be one of those people who’s serious about their running. If I do this consistently, I’ll undoubtedly get faster. Won’t I? I’ll be working toward a goal. I’ll overcome this inertia that has a hold on my ankles and is pulling me down into the black gooey muck of despair. My clothes, which have gotten quite ill-fitting over the past year, will loosen up again. And I’ll get into the goal jeans, buried somewhere deep in the back of my closet. I will be in charge of me. Instead of being a whiny little bitch, I will be back in charge of my life. Which now feels out of control. I’m so damn tired of feeling out of control. (Yeah, I’m a control freak. Any surprise there?)

So when do I start this little experiment? It has to be a real commitment. Otherwise, I’ll just set myself up for failure and self-recrimination. I have to start when the time is right and I’ve got a good chance of achieving my goal. Last week would have been bad. I worked until midnight two nights in a row to meet a deadline. I can’t get up and run at 6:00 a.m. when I’ve been up until 1:00 a.m. the night before. But that’s rare, and I’m just making more excuses.

Do I want to whine about being stuck, or do I want to do something about it? Why is it so difficult to find the motivation to pull myself out of this pile of steaming dung? Damn it! Where has my mettle gone?

Quit whining, put the tomato plant in the hole, and cover the roots.

 

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