As in, less of me.
I’m afraid that the isolation of single life in a pandemic has not been particularly conducive to self care. One pays better attention to healthy living when in the company of others. I’m not sure if this has to do with being accountable or if solo-ness is an ongoing version of free-fall.
Yup. Bad habits. Like the dust bunnies under the couch they have been accumulating. Eating shit, not drinking enough of what is good for me (water), drinking too much of what is not (alcohol). Forgoing exercise. Embracing chaos.
Chances are my situation is far from unique. But I’d also hazard a guess that those of us who live alone are far more likely to have gone to seed.
This morning I took a good long look in the mirror. At the bags under my eyes–which would disappear if I skipped my evening cocktail(s), at the extra weight around my middle–attributable to both those cocktails and three bags of Halloween candies (for me, not trick or treaters). A tad bit ashamed, I had a quick little let’s get real chat with myself. It was time to stop overindulging and to get back in the habit of a healthier lifestyle.
I surprised myself by actually feeling encouraged: I could start right now. Yes. That very moment.
One hour and forty five minutes into my fresh mindset, and I am holding strong. Give me a week, and I’ll report on my progress.
And I’d be obliged if you would hold me to it.