My morning routine has been working pretty well. So I’m changing it.
I developed the routine gradually and experimentally over the course of a year or so, and it’s become ingrained to the point of habit: up at 5:00, usually without complaint; make the bed, use the bathroom (TMI), weigh myself, drink water, make coffee. Exercise, inefficiently and ineffectively. Pour the coffee, read something enriching, write in my journal, meditate. Sketch out a plan for the day. Shower.
Then the real life of kids and work begins.
I’ve enjoyed it. Each activity has a purpose. Writing in my journal daily allows me to dive deep into my life; I don’t have to worry about leaving thoughts unfinished since I know I’ll be back the next day. Meditation helps me handle stress and responsibility at work—a couple people have even commented, unsolicited, on my ability to stay clear-headed in difficult situations. And coffee—well, coffee needs no purpose, but exists unto itself.
Just as important—maybe more so—is the way this routine prevents email or, given the current political climate, Facebook from affecting my day before I’m ready. Mornings have been a time to focus on myself, to “sharpen the ax,” as they say—to set myself up for a successful day. Sounds cheesy, but it has worked.
But recently—blame the daily journal, I suppose—I started wondering: sure, the morning routine works, but… works for what? What is this “successful day” that I’ve been setting myself up for?
The problem, as I mentioned a couple weeks ago, is that I have long claimed that I want to write, but I have done little that would give evidence of that claim. So, while my morning routine set me up to be a good(ish) parent and diligent worker bee, it didn’t set me up to be a productive writer.
In fact, it worked against that goal. Most days, I only have two consistent, uninterrupted blocks of time: before the kids are up, or after they’re in bed. And though I think I’m naturally a night owl—my most creative time is after the late-night second wind hits—the life of kids and work makes that choice unsustainable. When I was younger, I functioned much better on less sleep. But those days are past and, as Dirty Harry said, a man’s got to know his limitations.
Given my need to fall asleep before that second wind kicks in—otherwise the next day is a disaster—the first couple hours in the morning have become my new prime time. And I’ve been using these first two hours to set myself up—successfully!—for a mundane existence.
So I’m in search of a new morning routine.
How’s that working for me? Well, I’m writing each morning, which is excellent, and my days have not completely fallen to pieces. But I’m fairly disoriented as I try to hobble together something that goes beyond simply writing, but that supports a writing life.
I miss the old rituals. There was a comfort there, both in the sense of knowing what I was doing and in the sense that what I was doing made a difference. I’ll need to find where to reschedule at least some of the displaced work—I still need to exercise, for example, and I don’t want to lose either the meditation or the journal work (for some reason, writing in my journal at the end of the day just doesn’t feel right).
But I like that I’m writing. And I still get my coffee.