Back to Showing Up

It seems so simple, show up. Show up for work, your family, your friends, yourself. Yet, I have had a hard time showing up and doing what I need to be doing.

I could blame this on a whole bunch of different reasons. Of course, the ongoing pandemic has caused many to lose their jobs. Schools closed down for the remainder of the school year. My husband’s work shut down for six weeks, so he was around the house. My daughter’s car accident caused her to go on disability for six weeks. 

So, many excuses, yet none of them should have derailed me.

I have never been someone to allow excuses to rule my life.

Yet, somehow the lack of everyone’s routine started to affect my own routine. Even though I was already working from home, the lack of normalcy each morning somehow got to me. The ebb and flow out of the house somehow balanced my ability to sit down and work.

My focus was gone.

Last week I finally got back to a routine.  Up early, working, going for a walk, running and eating better. Then I allowed some careless words to derail me. 

I sat down to write twice over the weekend, and I had no words.  My Saturday run, skipped even after I got dressed for it.  Someone else’s mood stopped me from showing up.

Then I was embarrassed and angry. Embarrassed that others saw my shutdown. Irritated, I allowed someone to make me feel less than I am.

Sunday morning, the words consistency kept showing up. A weekly email I receive on Sundays talked about the importance of showing up. A social media class talked about consistency. A book I was reading had a chapter on consistency.

I got off my butt and headed out for a run.

I did a guided Nike run, which I haven’t done one in a really long time. It spoke to the importance of showing up to the starting line. How I had done the hard thing and showed up to the starting line of a run. The importance of doing it that day. That I had already won because I showed up for myself.

It was the first run in six months, which felt good. It was still slower than I would like. I walked more than I would have liked. But it felt good.

Somehow, Sunday morning, a whisper in my ear got me to show back up for myself, and I finally did.

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