Dear Mom,

Something unexpected happened to me this week. It might be due to some podcast episodes I’ve been listening to about habits and happiness, but I had a moment where everything changed for me. It’s as if suddenly I am able to see my life from a different vantage point. Like I’m having an out of body experience and can see myself from above. It’s difficult to put it into actual words. Which might make for an extra challenging writing experience for me, but I’m going to try my best to make this make sense for you.

The best way I can explain it is that it feels like I have been gliding through the world on a moving walkway. Drifting forward but not entirely in control. Unable to change directions. Unable to get on or off until the walkway ends. 

Suddenly, I can lift myself up. Like I’m a stuffed animal in one of those claw machines. And I control the claw. I can reach down, secure my hands around my body, and pull myself up and out onto a new trajectory. A new environment completely. Having this image in my brain enables me to obtain control. Control of my own journey. It’s as if I am finally able to see clearly what part I play in my own life. 

So now that I possess this new vision, how do I use it?

This is my goal for the week. As I now have a newfound permission to take back control, I will wield that power to maximize the positive moments in my life and start to minimize the negative. In an effort to make my days make more sense to me, I will take control of myself by taking control of my daily habits. I will rearrange and improve my morning routine.

There are a few things I do in the morning that I am finding are not healthy. I wake up and immediately look at my phone. I tell myself it is because I must know if my first client of the day has cancelled. I must know if I have more time than I thought. If I could even go back to bed. It’s all a lie. A ruse. What I’m really doing is checking my emails. Checking my social media. Checking to see if anyone in the world is thinking about me. If anything important happened in my orbit or in the greater orbit of the entire world. I look at the news, which is never good, and I double check my bank account. This is usually all while still in bed or, to be perfectly honest, on the toilet. 

The next thing I do every single day is stand on the scale. It’s another lie. I tell myself that I must keep track of my weight daily. It’s an experiment. My way to understand the ups and downs of my weight throughout a month. To know which days I weigh more because of hormonal changes and which days I spike due to bad choices the day before. I promise myself it’s healthy. In the name of science. 

But none of this is healthy. Most of the time, it is entirely unhealthy. Detrimental to my growth. 

As I stare at my phone, many things are happening simultaneously. First, my eyes are blinded by the light and strain to look at a screen first thing in the day. Probably not helpful for my ongoing issue with migraines. Scrolling social media, my texts, my emails, or lack thereof, I am instantly disappointed. Disappointed that people haven’t liked anything I’ve posted. Disappointed that no literary agents have responded to my queries. Disappointed that not one person has sent me any message in any capacity. That during the hours while I was asleep, along with most of the people I know, no one was thinking about me. Once I acknowledge that I’m on no one’s mind, I then feel gross. I feel ashamed. I cringe in my disgusting need for approval and my selfish need for admiration. Next comes the news. I doom scroll the variety of sites that all lead to the same conclusion, that the world has completely fallen apart. Sadness and despair surround me before I’ve even gotten out of bed. 

And then comes the scale. The small square of power that I have enabled by allowing it to live in my home. To take up space in my world. After so many years of not having one at all. Of overcoming my body image issues and not allowing a number to carry such weight. I’ve accepted it back into my life. And I might lie to myself that it’s for a good cause, but deep down, I’ve always known how dangerous it is. I strip down to my underwear. I stand on my scale. And the number on there can determine the direction of my entire day. If it’s a number I like, my day is instantly good. I stand taller. I make great choices. If it is a number I’m unhappy about? My day starts off in a small amount of misery. I beat myself up for whatever I did the day before to cause this. Or I come up with silly excuses as to why this has happened. It must be that my period is approaching. Or it’s the window of 10 days after my period when I’m always extra bloated. Or maybe I simply didn’t get enough water the day before. Or had too much water and my bladder is still full. I then spend the rest of my hours clawing myself out of the hole I’ve created. The possibility of a good number is not enough to counter the negative effect of a bad one. 

This past Sunday, I woke up, weighed myself, felt shitty, and then spent the rest of the day making up for it. I walked to the Farmer’s Market instead of driving. I later played tennis with the kids and ran around with them. I worked extra hard to make up for the number I witnessed on a piece of plastic hours earlier. I then decided it’s enough. I’m done sabotaging my days. By the evening, I solidified my new plan. That tomorrow I would start fresh.

On Monday, I began my new and improved morning routine. I woke up thirty minutes before my workday began. I immediately took two sips of water which ensured I wouldn’t weigh myself. Yes, I understand how ridiculous that sounds but I know my brain well enough to know that if I drink something, even two sips of water, I will know the weight will be inaccurate and therefore I will avoid the scale. 

I then made a French Press of hot coffee instead of the cold brew I usually drink in the morning. While my coffee brewed, I started my favorite warmup/stretch series which led to a solid fifteen minutes of movement.

Through that entire thirty minutes of starting my day, I left my phone on Do Not Disturb in a separate room.

I should say… Monday was a holiday, and the kids were off from school, so it did help that I didn’t need to rush out of the apartment early, but still, these small changes made a massive difference to my day.

Drinking hot coffee instead of cold, while my apartment is still sort of chilly in the early morning, was way more enjoyable than I had anticipated. Doing my stretch series first thing allowed me to take inventory of my body and to really understand how stiff I am after sleep. My tight low back felt much better after I chose to stretch it instead of waking up and immediately transferring my body from bed to chair for work. Not looking at my phone saved me from that dreaded disappointment.

You might be asking yourself how these new habits can change my entire day and not only my morning? Good question. Later, while I did my strength training workout, I switched my phone onto airplane mode as well as Do Not Disturb. Instead of checking my phone between each workout set, I rested, drank water, and focused on my breath. My workout was shortened by ten minutes because I wasn’t wasting time, and I felt way more energized than normal. 

Even while writing later in the day, I had my phone on Do Not Disturb. I kept reaching my hand toward it, out of reflex, to see if any messages had come through only to remember that it had been silenced. I was truly present in the moment. No one could distract me.

Later, we took the kids swimming as it was the first day of our apartment’s pool being heated for the summer. I left my phone on silent in my bag and didn’t look at it once while we swam. Even at nighttime, while I read in bed with Scotland, I turned my phone on Do Not Disturb to avoid the inevitable email or news notification that could sidetrack me.

Tuesday I successfully accomplished a second morning of my new routine leading me to a surprisingly productive day. I even managed to find time to play card games after dinner as a family and Scotland and I finally finished the novel we’d been reading together for the last few months.

I have to say I feel absolutely amazing. It’s as if I can truly do anything. Like I really do have full control of my day. Full control of my life. And it’s all due to how I started my morning. Making those small changes in my routine turned out to be more significant than I’d imagined.

I wonder, did you have a morning routine? Something that got your day started right? I remember that your sleep was very important, so you were usually sleeping much later than the rest of us. Under no circumstance were we to wake you before 9am. I also remember your pills. Even before the cancer you were always loading up on a plethora of colorful tablets and capsules. Mostly vitamins. Mostly homeopathic. But I have a feeling you began your days similar to mine. Disappointed. I have a feeling you woke up wishing things could be different. I know you were happy for so many reasons, but you also wished for changes. You wanted adventure. You wanted the city life. You wanted more financial stability. You wanted romance. You wanted a different body. And some of that did come later. When you and Dad moved back to the city. You had the freedom to walk to the store. To have breakfast on the balcony looking out at the city you loved. Your first love really. You had theater and live music. You had more friends.

What I hope you had? I hope you had control. I hope you had the permission to live life on your own terms. Maybe you felt in control of your days. But I’m not sure you did. If you were here, Mom, I’d tell you to grab life by the balls. I feel like that’s a phrase you’d use, right? I guess, in a weird morbid way, you did have control in the end. You died on your own terms. Kind of. There wasn’t much choice as to when. But the how was in your hands. I’m grateful that you controlled your last moments. That you didn’t let someone else dictate how you died. You had dignity in your last days. Even if it was devastating and cruel to watch you die, I can say with full certainty that you controlled it. And I respect that.

I’m starting to realize finally that controlling my life, even just the smallest of moments, is out of respect to myself. That it only hurts me to allow myself to mindlessly wander while outside forces control my strings. I can appreciate every moment of my life, even the darkest of times, if I can say with absolute certainty that I have the integrity of my own authority. It puts the power back into my hands. I guess it’s all the next step on my journey of self-love and authenticity. Giving myself the permission to be in charge of my own destiny. And I have to say it’s quite refreshing to open my eyes and see my potential so clearly. Turns out, I want what’s best for me and I believe I am capable to guide myself. It starts with me. It starts with control. It always has. The only difference is that I can now see it.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel