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Routinely Habitual

#HAWMC Day 4: Creature of Habit

What good habits, (health or otherwise) do you have? Do you have a routine that you follow every morning? Are there any bad habits you wish you could break?

Well, I’ve certainly made gains in the “putting myself first” agenda of good habits leading to good health.

Isn’t it hard for some of us? Doesn’t society push the give-give-give all of the time?

Dude. If I’m not at my best, no one benefits. And, let’s face it…we’re already hurting enough, scared enough, busy enough with appointments and health treatments, no?

It’s also lead to a real challenge for me as of late. A really, really deep, emotional challenge. Because y’know what? People aren’t feckin’ allowing me that necessity.

I’m fighting my body.

I’m fighting disease and the whackadoodle emotions that come with that whole can’o’cosmic whoopass.

I’m fighting my family* to own their shit and “Do.”

*I’m now seeing a psychologist who has illustrated my excessive useage of wording and lack of in-your-face energy to ensure that the shit that needs to be done is actually coming across as needing to be done…NOW.

It’s why I’ve had dreams about living by myself.

It’s why I don’t talk much at home or, now, why I don’t want to “People.”

I try. I immerse myself in the free, online courses about the Cosmos. I find colour. I find #gladitude.


I’ve got daycare kids and five kids of my own and a husband and a house and the “Everything.” that needs to be managed.

That’s my routine. Doing.



Bad habits?

Ho. Lee. Shit.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner…right here.

I have wicked self-esteem issues. I try to compensate with lip gloss. I made a promise to keep my hair shorn off until December 31st in an effort to learn why, by said date, I will not giveth a shiteth what value and worth I used to place on appearance and the correlation of each.

I put out wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy to much more than would, or will, ever be reciprocated.

I don’t wash my face at night because *that* will be precisely the night that one of my eleventy-billion kids will need to go to the hospital, or the house will blow up and I’ll be judged upon entrance to Valhalla or Hel. Whichever. For, y’know…having a malar rash and no mascara. But, hey, I draw the line at wearing lip gloss to bed.

Because, really…I’d be the one cleaning it up off the sheets anyway.

My SuperHero levels of OCD are both a good and bad habit, m’thinks. I’ll lean to the good side, just to end off the post on a lighter note.

My cans all face the same way.

Because, y’know…when I’ve forgotten to pull out dinner for the umpteenth time, it’s Girl Guide night and I’ve been up since 5:15AM for a 5:30 AM daycare girl dropoff…it’s easier to see what I still don’t want to make.


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