1

I’m really not sure how I’m going to get through the day. I don’t want to wake up, I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t want to do any of the things. None of them. I’m prophylactically exhausted, and I have a nice long lists of reasons validating my exhaustion. I could call in sick. I could just spend the day not existing.

I don’t.

I open my eyes. Try to force my mouth into a smile. 

The Vietnamese-French Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn recommends starting each day so: “Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.”

I form the words without believing them. OMG, so fucking cheesy. Really? I’m doing this?

I’m doing this. Because I need to get the fuck out of bed. Job, mortgage, children.

I get out of bed.

2

Brushing my teeth in my gorgeously renovated bathroom, I look around and try to access external happiness. Then internalize it: I made this happen. I mean, not literally, exactly. A very qualified tiler and a professional planner did most of the work. And my gorgeous partner did all the heavy lifting on refurbishing the vanity. But I made this happen. 

Even though it was hard, even though I was so tired, even though every decision along the way felt excruciating.

3

At my work laptop by 7:10 a.m., checking for Friday morning emergencies. (They do happen, more often that you’d think. And would not life be better, for all of us, if we just decided — no emergencies on Fridays. Hit pause over the weekend, resume on Monday? One can dream. But here’s something you can do: If I can’t do anything other than fix it until Monday… don’t tell me on Friday. Deal? Awesome. Thank you for making the world a better place.)

We’re emergency free so I take the next 30 minutes to write my morning pages and drink decaf coffee with decadently fatty cream and cardamom and look at the sun splashing onto my balcony. I made that happen too. I mean, obviously, not the sun. And I bought, not created, the view. But the space — in my living room, on my balcony — all me. My vision, my labour, my work.

I should be proud, right? Satisfied? I dig inside me for the feeling. It’s somewhere in there.

But today I can’t find it.

4

Back at work laptop, I accept today will be a rough day. One foot in front of the other, and I will need some props.

The first is the ta-da list (thank you, Julia Cameron). I open my notebook and make a list of all the things I’ve already done that day:

• Woke up.
• Got out of bed.
• Brushed teeth.
• Put on shirt (but not pants; risky, I know, but it’s a minimum viable product day, don’t judge).
• Made coffee.
• Wrote Morning Pages.
• Painstakingly reviewed 30-min video for all those errors that inevitably still sneak into the final-final revised-this really is the final version.
• Answered emails.
• Deleted old emails.
• Gave feedback to a colleague on a cool thing.
• Checked expenses from my last trip.
• Realized I should eat.
• Ate.
• Felt crash coming and it was barely 10 a.m.

5

Purpose of the ta-da list: By the time the crash fully manifests and I think I’m useless, worthless and pissing my day away, I have a tangible list of things written down that I can show myself I’ve actually done. Yes, including brushing my teeth. Sometimes, you’ve got to celebrate the little things.

Second hack: Exercise.

I swap work laptop for personal laptop and pull up Essentrics TV. I choose a morning activation routine, and spend the next 23 minutes stretching, swaying and pulsing.

Crash channelled.

I take my 11:30 am meeting energized and focused.

6

Back to the ta-da list:

• Exercised.
• Back to deleting emails.
• Fully present at 1 hour meeting on important stuff.
• Moved three plant pots from balcony to entry way to make more space on the balcony.
• Reviewed key message Q&A and case study document.
• Incorporated case studies into video script.
• Ate good for me things.
• Reviewed and commented on very important speech.

7

Confession: Did much of the above fuelled by black tea — although decaffeinated — and sheesha. In other words, nicotine.

Refuse to feel guilty about it, because sometimes, you’ve got to do the thing.

8

I’m supposed to feed the youngest child today and maybe take him to a flag football game, so as I wrap work, I prep supper and check in with him re timings.

Flag football cancelled.

And, World Cup happening; the football fan is discovering soccer and watching games with friends.

Not sure he will be available for supper and hangs — which I correctly interpret as “You won’t hear from me until midnight.”

It’s ok. I accept it, choose to use the time to tidy up the house.

9

All the chores go on the ta-da list:

• Vacuumed, top to bottom, including couches and under couches.
• Scoured bathrooms.
• Tidied up kitchen.
• Adjusted kitchen table legs (thank you, IKEA) to fit a tallish kitchen island under them.
• Checked in on child — yeah, not gonna see him today.
• Read.

Not on the list: Thought about writing.

10

I’m doing it. I’m not a ray of sunshine, but I’m not a limp dishrag either. The day is nearing to its finale — a long-planned party I was super excited about not that long ago. I poke around for that excitement. I don’t find it, as such, but I find the memory and that’s enough.

I take a long bath while watching episodes of The Other Bennet Sister (not great but still, anything Jane Austen adjacent gives me pleasure) and am dressed and ready by the time my love comes to pick me up.

And I have fun at the party.

I don’t finish the day’s ta-da list — but I end the day with a whisper of gratitude to whoever introduced me to it. (Julia Cameron? A friend? The Internet? I don’t remember, it doesn’t matter.)

I conquered the day.

I woke up, I did things, I had fun.

Even though I kinda didn’t want to, even though it was hard.

My labour. My win.

xoxo

“Jane”