I hate to be late

Tuesday 18th August 2020

Yesterday was an emotional rollercoaster. It started off well, then I literally went through every negative emotion possible in the space of a couple of hours, I won’t go into detail on here, but needless to say I was at the pinnacle of rage before 10am. This left me completely exhausted in the afternoon, with nothing left to give by the time the day was over. Still didn’t have a drink though, even though at one point I wanted to mainline vodka.

I was determined to have a better day today. I woke up before my alarm and headed out for my second morning walk of the week.

I absolutely love being up and about before everyone else, there is something so tranquil about walking around in the early morning sunshine, when all the shops aren’t yet open and you can smell the fresh bread from the bakers. For me, it is the best way I could start my day. I just need to remember this when I think to myself “just 5 more minutes in bed”

My morning walk, I’ve realised, is much more beneficial than an extra 15 minutes in bed. Once my brain is awake, I’m awake, whether my eyes are open or not, it’s very rarely that I ever go back to sleep. I talk myself out of bed, put my gym stuff on and put on an audible, my current one is “everything is fucked” by Mark Manson, it’s actually about hope he’s also the author of “The subtle art of not giving a fuck” which I also enjoyed.

I’ve always been a morning person, I like the peace & quiet of it. Your brain has time to think, plan and reflect. The thought of getting up, leaving me just enough time to do what I need to do before starting work makes me anxious. The husband is the complete opposite, he will allow himself just enough time, if not less time than he needs, there are no allowances for things such a traffic or train delays, he’ll just be late, whereas I like to plan for every eventuality, if I’m early, good. I’ll read my book or catch up on my emails. I like having that breathing space, that really is what it is for me. If I’m late, I’m anxious, stressed, short of breath. No breathing space.

You can imagine how this impacts my relationship with the husband, someone who seems to have no concept of time. It’s been the cause of many an argument. I do imagine that one day, we will arrive at events separately, just to save my sanity and his ears, until then, I will continue to work on him and tell him we need to places an hour earlier than we do.

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