I’ve had a dawning realization over the past year or so that may seem kind of stupid—but it’s revolutionary for me, so maybe it will help you, too.
In the past, if I was having, say, a day where I couldn’t seem to focus on my work, I would beat myself up about it and try really hard to do better. Or if I got on the yoga mat and just wasn’t feeling up to doing much, I would power through anyway to get in a “normal” amount of exercise. Or if I felt like snacking, I would tell myself that was wrong and bad and try to beat my instincts into submission with willpower.
But what I’ve been realizing is that every day is different. Some days it’s really easy to focus and get a ton of work done, some days not. Some days I want to eat a lot, some days I really don’t. Some days I feel strong and flexible and want to do all the yoga tricks—and some days I just want to lie there on my back with my eyes closed and wait for the fireplace fan to come on.
I think it was a form of fear that was making me fight my natural inclinations, a worry that one lazy day would be followed by three more lazy days, and the next thing you know I would be…lazy forever. But lately I have just been accepting each day for what it is, and it’s like some psychological self–trust fall, and truly nothing has dropped to the ground yet.