I’ve had so many thoughts about routine this week. I’m reading a book by a choreographer in her 60’s, who starts every morning by hopping in a cab and going to a gym. Followed by a slew of other daily routines.
I used to write every day. For something like 7 or 8 years, I wrote daily (the sole exception was when Harry Potter midnight showings occurred, LOL).
I feel like I have no routines lately. I want them, but my body doesn’t allow for them. It feels so impossible to write if I can’t even get out of bed or if I can’t THINK due to pain. My most basic routine of going to campus every day is not even a thing since COVID.
Before I experienced chronic illness, I was one of those “put your head down and WORK” people. I was fueled by ambition and my youth and my privilege.
So right now, I don’t know my relationship with routine. I’m sort of watching it from the wings. Wishing I could dance with it, but also a tiny bit relieved I’m not expected on that dance floor all the time. I don’t know.
But I don’t have to know.