Ever since I moved, my daily routine has been completely out of whack. Sure, it makes sense — moving is always disruptive, and it’s entirely natural that being in a new space will mean that I develop new routines.
Used to write in my journal at night? Maybe now morning time feels better. Used to practice yoga in my bedroom on the rare occasions when I practiced at home? Maybe now the living room seems like the right space. And so on and so forth.
All of that is good, probably healthy even! Change it up and keep it fresh. But the night before last I found myself in strangely familiar territory — an old sedentary habit, with groves so deep I easily slid right back into them without even noticing it was happening.
See, to go to yoga, you need pants. Now I’m not talking about fancy $100 yoga pants here, I’m just talking about whatever comfortable, stretchy pants will permit you to move in and out of yoga shapes. I have several pairs, enough to get me through about a week.
It started off innocently. Sunday I was tired, so I let myself off the hook. Monday was a holiday and who wants to do chores on a holiday? Then there was Tuesday. Tuesday was the prime laundry day. In fact, it was often the day I would do household chores at where I used to live. And I knew for a fact that every single pair of yoga pants was dirty (and not like the “you can kind of get away with wearing them again” sort of dirty). If I didn’t summon up the energy to do laundry on Tuesday night, I wouldn’t be able to go to class the following day.
When I got home from work on Tuesday, I immediately sat down on the couch. (Ohhh, mistake!) And once I sat down on that couch, I started in on the well-practiced mental games:
Maybe I have time to do a load of laundry after work, but before I go to the studio on Wednesday. (So not realistic.)
Maybe I don’t actually *want* to go to yoga class tomorrow. (I have never regretted going to the studio.)
Maybe I can buy a new pair of yoga pants at lunchtime tomorrow? (Ya, not gonna happen.)
Maybe I should practice yoga at home … I can just wear pajamas for that. (Shocker: didn’t happen.)
And before you knew it, I had totally rationalized why it would be okay for me to skip yoga class the following day. So I didn’t do laundry.
When Wednesday rolled around, I still had three loads of laundry to do (which now felt like 3,000 because I’d spent countless hours over the previous three days thinking about how I needed to do it) and no clean yoga pants. I was in the mood to go to class, but definitely couldn’t go because now my laundry situation had reached a point where I wouldn’t have clothes to wear to work the following day, if I didn’t get my act together.
It was a humbling moment and I remembered something important: practicing yoga makes me feel good. It allows me to move my body, stretching and feeling my muscles activate. It helps calm my mind and keep me centered. It allows me to connect with an entire community of like-minded people. But showing up at the studio for class does not happen by accident. It happens only when I prioritize and make a conscious effort.
So I cried in frustration, got over it, did my laundry, and went to a lovely yoga class on Thursday night. Lesson learned (again).
How was your week?