God, I Love Missing Monday's

Sometimes people ask how I’ve been able to stay so committed to my pilates practice. In the past I’d have said something about “discipline” and “showing up even when it’s hard,” which did feel true when I used to say it but doesn’t feel true now.

I am so committed to my pilates practice, or any routine practice that requires effort but hands back goodness, because I don’t force myself to be. My commitment is never to the place, or the goal, or the decision. My commitment is to my belief that I deserve to feel the whimsy and flow of desire. To feel joy in the doing, not only pride in the completion.

God I looove to miss a Monday if that’s where the wind blows! And I’ll miss a Tuesday if it’s raining really heavily, or my friend wants to go to the mall, or the 12 minute drive makes my nose turn up! I’ll take a $20 late cancel fee over deepening the brain pattern that formed around decades of self betrayal disguised as commitment. The occasional $20 late cancel fee turned out to be significantly less than the year long membership I bought in full but gave up on using because of exploding resentment. I love getting excited about a class because my favorite instructor is teaching. I want to go! I get to go!

I used to ride front row in a spin class and force myself to hit every down beat of a 30 second drop (at 122 bpm, everyone clap!) only to leave feeling pissed as hell. I was short and curt with everyone I ran into and my overstimulated body drove home in silence. Except for the seconds it took to say “Oh my GOD, fucking MOVE.”

They did need to fucking move though, so I’ll allow it.

All of this because I let the internet tell me that my commitment to showing up or really, being seen showing up, was most important. More important than the quiet, non judgmental agreement that my body rules my days, the days don’t rule my body.

The disconnection from force and discovery of unremorseful desire has shaped me. It’s like the research that suggests giving employees unlimited PTO often leads to them taking less time off of work. Or I think that is what the research suggests, but really it’s one of those things I’ve heard so many times from people I respect that I adopted their research as my own. If anyone wants to send me the actual research then I’ll keep the tab open until workplace culture becomes my hyperfocus, or I get overwhelmed with all of my tabs and force quit the app.

My understanding of the passed down research is when you don’t build a cage around people’s free will, they stop feeling the need to escape. I commit to my practice of movement, my work, my eating and drinking habits, because I know I’m free to change my mind. I am free to say that I don’t want to. Free to show up 23 days in a row, and free to take the rest of the month off because doing something for a Whole Month Straight has never actually meant much to me. The only requirement is that I have to be as curious about my no as I am eager about my yes.

In that curiosity I learned that the praise from doing something for a Whole Month Straight felt like a drug, though. I want to be seen as good, so good that I have made myself feel pretty fucking bad. So good that I’d spend 45 minutes after posting my accomplishment refreshing my supportive messages to replace the ache in my ankle because I didn’t stretch before Getting TF After It!

Some parenting advice I have seen floating around the internet says that parents should save their “no’s” for when they matter. Yes, you can have a cookie! Do you want to share it with me and chat about what makes it so yummy? Oh, you’re not into broccoli right now? Let’s do a blind taste test and see which veggies we’re loving this week. No, you can’t have unlimited, unrestricted internet access because there will be plenty of time to google “why do my eyes feel heavy but I can’t sleep,” after 12 uninterrupted hours of screen time later in life. But right now you are nine.

I go to pilates four times a week. I bought a spin bike to ride at home that I have used twice. I was routinely running seven+ miles, but stopped when I tied my craving for movement to a rigorous half marathon plan. I eat chips and salsa on the treadmill. I stretch before bed. I do red light therapy most mornings, except for the days I don’t want to. I started running again, but slowly and without fear of losing my stamina.

I don’t feel guilty about all of the practices I’ve moved away from because I don’t feel guilty for changing my mind. I didn’t do anything wrong.

How can I honor myself today? How can I be on my own side? How can I fall deeper in love with the discipline of loving myself the way I want to be loved? How curious can I be of my own desire? My own resentment? My own personhood? How do I stop those questions from feeling like well meaning platitudes that I never actually work through? How do I keep coming back to myself over and over and over again?

Because it feels so good.¹

1. I really tried to refrain from adding that this works for me, but maybe it doesn’t work for you because algorithmic platforms have convinced us that everyone that comes across our desk (read: screen) must be with and for us. But God! I want everyone to know that I understand that my experience is not The Experience. Because I want to be good! See earlier paragraphs. So much so that I have to remind everyone that media or content doesn’t exist solely to align with yours. Dear Reader, you’re allowed to disagree with my individual, deeply personal way of caring for myself if you must.