Nearly every morning my husband, Tom, brings me my first cup of coffee in bed. He gets up, even though he doesn’t have to go to work, goes downstairs, prepares a perfect cup, and carries it up to me. He then goes back down to get a cup for himself and climbs back into bed beside me. With our cat, Lilly, snuggled between us, we read the news, plan our day, or talk for nearly an hour before we get moving. This is our morning routine.
Morning routines are good things to have. They set the day in motion. Most of the advice I’ve read about morning routines have to do with exercise or meditation. Getting out of bed and getting your steps in, your heart racing, your body moving in some way. Or, spending that time reflecting and calming your mind. I have spent a lot of time feeling guilty that my first few minutes of the day have nothing to do with movement or meditation. I fight with myself over how I spend these precious minutes. One side of me stresses about how wasteful I am with my time, the other knows that doing this makes me happy. To give up these minutes would take away a big part of my relationship with Tom.
There have been times when I tried other ways of spending that first hour of the day. I’ve walked in the mornings, spent time in a coffee shop writing before work, morning yoga sessions with guided meditations. But there has been nothing that has been so satisfying and meaningful as the mornings spent in bed with my cup of coffee, Tom, and Lilly.
In my “getting my shit together” year, I am trying to find ways to make improvements in my life and how I spend my time. Ways to be better organized and resourceful. Ways to get more stuff done while feeling less stressed about all that needs to be done. I could use this hour to do something more productive. I have so many “shoulds” that I want to complete each day. I have people who depend on me and my time. More and more people every day. At this time in my life, instead of my time becoming more my own, it is becoming less. In the past year I have three new challenges that are taking a considerable amount of my time and emotional energy. My “day late and dollar short” can now be measured in weeks or months. I never seem to be really on top of anything. I’m always mucking down in the heap of the mess as more and more gets thrown on.
Even so, I’m not giving up this hour. From our bedroom window we can watch the sun come up over the mountains to our east. Life always seems a little bit more peaceful in the early morning. This hour is too important. Getting my shit together is not only about getting organized, it’s about making my life a life that is worth living every day. It is about enjoying my days more than not. It’s about in the end, looking back and knowing that there was purpose and meaning to why I was put on this earth. I’ve spent too many days in a flurry of activities that will mean nothing in the end. Time spent with Tom, friends, and family will always carry weight. This time will always have purpose and meaning.
It’s now the middle of January of this GYST year. Also in the middle of this impressive increase in the number of Covid cases around us due to the Omicron variant. I have still managed to get quite a bit done. I am moving my dad across the country to live near me. I have secured an apartment for him. I’ve started getting it set up with furniture and basic living needs (with the help of some very good friends). I had guests in my house for the most of the first ten days of the year. I held a New Years Day dinner for nine. I have taken care of tasks (also with the help of a friend and co-guardian) of our new 65 year old “daughter”. I manage to keep the house somewhat clean and straightened, although not always to my liking. Sure, I don’t get meals cooked every night. I don’t always have the laundry under control. My car is a disaster. The mail goes unopened for days. My email inbox is overflowing with junk. But I am learning that GYST doesn’t always mean those are the most important accomplishments. We (I) will survive if we have to pick up take out or just eat popcorn or pancakes (the only thing that Tom cooks) for dinner now and then. GYST is about being okay with those things. Life is not perfect. Sometimes GYST is about giving myself a break, and starting my day with a cup of coffee, a husband, a cat and a beautiful sunrise.
View From My Bed
