Friday, September 13, 2013
I plan my meals a week in advance, I plan where my money is going, I plan my clothes, my kids' clothes, my laundry routines, my household cleaning: I pretty much plan everything. Everything except exercise, that is. I hate making an exercise plan, and for the longest time I didn't know why.
Well, why is two-fold.
One, I'm a perfectionist. I know if I made that appointment with myself and life got out of hand, I'd torture myself emotionally over it all day. Bad mojo man.
Two, if I make an appointment with myself I'll feel obligated to keep it. For a long time, part of me has felt so worthless that I feel unworthy of the measly 30 minutes I'd spend generating endorphins and becoming a more cheerful mom.
Ironically, both of those reasons are really good ones to work out. To plan time to make it happen, and to put in down on the calendar like I would my daughter's tennis meets and the PTO meetings. (Not the emotional self-torture that's not a good reason for anything, but I'm working on curbing my perfectionism. I guess it would make a good deterrent, though.)
Perfection only exists in God and Fairy Tales. I'm real. I have to plan because only Wonder Woman would be able to track everything on my plate in her mind. I'm not perfect, so I will forget something, take too long at the store, or have to run a kid to the doctor and I'll miss my workout appointment. I'll be too tired some days, or sick, or dealing with a fussy kid. That's OK. Life takes balance and if I can't sacrifice a workout here and there to tend my family, well then I don't deserve them.
BUT, I deserve tending, too. I deserve to do something that improves my mood, focus, and ability all day long. I deserve to take some time for me on a regular basis and leave the little ones in my husband's capable care. So from now on, I have a daily appointment to keep with myself. It may take some time to figure out how it works in my day, but I'll make it fit. I deserve it.