5:45-6:00 am - out of bed, lifting weights, doing stretches, working core, administering probiotics, multivitamins, and antioxidant supplements.
6:00-6:30 am - cardio
6:30-7:00 am - making & consuming breakfast (usually a blended concoction of greens, blueberries, vega one, flax oil, chia seeds, etc, etc.)
7:00-8:00 am - dry brushing, showering, lotion-ing & preening.
8:00-9:00 am - prepare lunch for the day (probably a little quinoa, some green vegetable, and dressing of sorts)
9:00-9:30 am - tidying my living space & some yoga
9:30-10:00 am - meditation
10:00 am - walk to work, arrive at 10:20 am
10:30-7:00 pm - work (being sure to consume small amounts of raw nuts and/or dried fruit throughout the day, in addition to moving around at a brisk pace and lifting/moving hefty objects whenever possible.)
7:30-8:00 pm - arrive home & decompress.
8:00-8:30 pm - salad
8:30-10:00 pm - free time
10:30 pm - bedtime.
This was my day... every day... I did not go out at night, I dropped old friends like stones too heavy to carry. I ate according to a predetermined structure of optimal food combination & absorption. The list of things I refused to put in my body became extensive. Yoga classes were attended, green foods were consumed, on weekends I hiked, Tuesdays I fasted. The regime would speak torture to many, but a pretentious sense of accomplishment drove me onward.
Eventually I allowed myself Thursday nights at a local bar. Pumped up on how goddamn healthy I was, alcohol was not required, I danced the night away in pure sobriety.
Altitudinous was the self-love pedestal I'd constructed, and shameless was the manner in which I swan-dove. Plummeting at unearthly speeds towards a concrete landing, a resounding clap of unrequited love shattered the regime.
Beneath my skin he crawled, he was every bone in my body, I was obsessively consumed with an undesired affection. Transformed from my radiant, jovial self, supplanted with a rickety shadow-puppet of euphoria. I discovered I could stay up all night drinking if I fasted for 2 days as opposed to one. Caught in some sort of erratic cycle, life was insanity: going to bed at 3am, waking up at 6am, partying, exercising,... as it turns out, trying to be two completely different people (the health-o-holic and the party animal who doesn't give 2 fucks about 4 fucks) is very difficult....
A new friend found me, exclusively consumed by lost loves, the space between us was a beckoning vacuum. Two birds of broken wing huddled in a makeshift nest, safe from the storm for now. Mirroring each other, we clung to comfort offered by false-security. Something to look after -a distraction from the distraction- I threw myself into becoming a comfort blanket. The most intimate of embraces held naught but pretense and sedation for a month or two.
I went to Peru..... found myself in a foreign country and quickly realized that I had NO IDEA who I was. My world was flipped, I was up, down, drunk, sober, sick, happy, sad, ALIVE! The events of the past year clung to my skirts, tugging at the folds and begging for attention... faces, events, memories surfaced like garbage tossed upon the shore following a tsunami... WAS THERE TO BE NO REPRIEVE?!
Finally, it came. On the beach of Zorritos, isolated for one week. I laid in a hammock on the shore for hours watching the waves break my mind. Everything had happened, all of it, and I was fine. Walking along the shoreline, I would wait for the tide to sweep the sand to sea, taking my footprints with it. Days were long, slow, and blissful. I did not speak without absolute necessity. There are few moments in my experience where I can pinpoint such a monumental shift as this; the sea stole all that was and left me with fresh sand to wriggle my toes in. Simplicity and light fill me, I am at peace.
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