The world is moving quickly outside while I’m slowing down, while my feet aren’t moving as fast as I would like them to. I’d rather spend time watching TV or browsing Instagram or Twitter or Facebook instead of reading or writing. Part of me feels like I deserve some time off. I have been going strong for two-hundred and thirty-one days straight after all. At least, that’s what I tell myself. On the other hand, every task on my todo list is a promise I made to myself, and I’ve been breaking my promises recently. I’m not as diligent as I used to be. I don’t know when it happened or how it started, but it’s one of those things I didn’t even know was happening until after it happened.
I’m finding excuses to not do something. I don’t do that — that’s not something I do. But I’ve been doing it, and I don’t like it but it’s not going to change overnight. I have to start over. I have to rebuild that habit or replenish my willpower enough to get working. Part of me doesn’t want to, and that urge is stronger than all my other urges. I want to play and have fun and relax. I’m almost done with a few things, and I’m about to start other things.
I finish the Insanity the Asylum: Volume 1/Volume 2 hybrid workout this week. That means I’ve practically done an Insanity workout every day for over two-hundred days. I’m going to add another sixty when I do the Insanity Max: 30 workout again. I added extra ab workouts the first time I did, and this time I’m not going to do that. That means these workouts will only take thirty minutes out of my day, and that’s a huge relief. It’ll give me more time to do other things. I don’t know what I’ll do, though.
I’m so close to finishing my book, and I decided, 84,000 words later, that I’m going to cut one of my main characters (again). This story had three main characters, and I switched POV with each chapter, and now I think I’m going to stick with two. This story turned into a very personal and emotional story, and I really want to explore that more than what this story was originally supposed to do, which was talk about politics. No more of that. So I can really say I’ve written two different novels, and I’m very close to rewriting the second one.
So I’m working out and writing. I’m just not reading as much as I would like to. I love reading, but maybe it’s the books I’m reading or what I want to do with those books that is holding me back from really getting into it. Maybe that’s it: I want to do too much. Maybe I need to slow down and relax. Is that defeatist? Will I regret this later? I don’t know.
If it’s not hard, it’s not worth doing, right? I want to push myself harder than I’ve ever pushed myself. That much is obvious. But maybe I should listen to what I’m doing. I’m slowing down, watching TV, neglecting (some of) my tasks… maybe that’s all a sign that I need to relax. Maybe. As long as I’m writing and working out and living. I am, so lets try to relax, yeah?