I love February. I’m a sucker for the colors of Valentine’s Day and all the sweetness that comes with the holiday. I don’t know why, I just think it’s cute.
I’m still off social media. Okay, sometimes, at work, I’d skim my (finally deactivated) Twitter feed (which is mostly astrology content creators and X-Files fans), but I’d close the browser just as quickly and move on. Instagram was my main offender anyway, and oddly, I have no desire to reconnect with it. I feel free from it.
Yoga is a non-negotiable part of my day. I wake up, gently scoop Gigi out of her crate as she stretches happily, and we go downstairs together—her hopping down each step, me hazily maneuvering behind her.
I dish her prescription food into a ceramic bowl, letting her take notice of it before leading her outside to pee. If I don’t do this, she might not go right away. Instead, she’ll scan the dark surroundings, pacing for a possum sighting (there’s definitely a family nearby).
I make my coffee, two shots of espresso over ice with a tablespoon of oat creamer on top. I chide myself for not drinking water first, place the glass on the kitchen table, and roll out my yoga mat. I pick a flow from my Peloton app and begin.
One of the suggestions in a daily meditation I’ve been doing (another habit I’ve increased) is to choose a word for the day. A word that describes the way you’d like to feel or show up.
Yesterday, “proud” instantly came to mind. And I realized, that’s the energy I’ve been setting for the year. Not perfection. I know there will be an early morning I don’t make it to the mat. It’s about something else entirely. The relentless pursuit of something I’m not telling anybody about (professionally), and the quiet habits on the side that get me through that pursuit.
February feels good so far. I know it’s only the 5th, but it does. It feels exactly like those silly paper-cut hearts, cutesy fonts, and little bursts of love.
Another loving part of my routine? Sleeping with a silk mask. It feels a little extravagant, but when I saw Slip advertising one with my Libra scale on it, I couldn’t resist.
Now, when I get under my sheets, I slip it on and immediately feel like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, except instead of dreamily existing like her troubled character, I’m ready to rest, recover, and sleep indulgently.
Here’s to more of that feeling. And to accepting the times when it can’t be that way, too.
(Daily Writing 013)
Thoughts?