What to do with the whirling to do list in my head?

I talk to a lot of people who hate Sundays because, you know, Mondays. Many people I know have a sense of dread that rests in their bodies somewhere the day before the workweek begins. My Sundays have changed over the years. When I worked for someone else in an office, my anxiety about work lit up my entire body. For many years, I dealt with this by drinking bottles of red wine and eating junk and puking it up. If addiction is not your thing, you may not understand this approach. But it worked...until it didn't.

Over time, I realized that the drinking and bingeing and purging, just made the anxiety, and my life, worse. So I quit drinking. The bingeing and purging are a work in progress. I also quit the job that had caused me so much anxiety. I changed my medication. And then, POW, the electricity in my stomach pretty much disappeared.

Wow. I am managing my anxiety.

Recently, however, I have begun to realize that my anxiety didn't really go away. It just changed its costume. My Sunday anxiety is now often the voice in my head and on any given day sounds like this:

I will exercise everyday this week. That may be an unrealistic goal. Okay. Five days. Different types of exercising. That should work. We have the new workout equipment. I should use it at least three times a week. On top of that, don't forget the 10,000 steps a day. I could walk on the treadmill while I watch Offspring. The steps may not show up. Susan [a friend of mine] said there is a formula for taking the steps earned on a treadmill and turning them into steps. I should look that up. I should eat better, and I should start by using that Nutribullet I asked for for Christmas. But I will focus on the meal plan. Eat what I want. but keep it to three meal and two snacks and within the right servings. Moderation. It's all about moderation. I know that. No more two packs of Twix bars. Also this week, I will cook for dinner. We have to eat at home more. I will also go to sobriety meetings. Contact two of my friends for lunch. Try to practice tennis with Tony everyday. I suck and have to get better. And meditate. Yes that is the tough self-care I just read about. I should journal. Well maybe if I don't journal I could write my blog. I should write all of this down in one of the three fucking health journals I have. I will be the 50-something woman who takes care of herself, embraces self-care, eats well because it will make her live longer and because it is the right thing to do. Yes. I will write it all down. Maybe even on one of the several white boards I have. Yes, I have started this on many, many Mondays. But I can do this. I will be successful this time. Oh, I need to make a vet appointment for Nikki since she is limping. But that will cost, and she seems fine.

And then BAM. Start over.

Yesterday, I had the above conversation with myself over and over. This morning, I woke up, took my youngest to school and came home. I had a plan.

I will meditate and eat a healthy breakfast and then write my blog with a clear head and a heart full of creativity.

I meditated. It was great. A woman with a soothing voice who I am sure was wearing billowing pants with purple elephants on them told me to see the person I want to be mirrored back at me. A person with values who lives those values.

This is a sign. I am ready to be the person I have always waned to be, one who takes care of mind, body and spirit with passion and determination.

But after the meditation and a nice healthy breakfast, I sat. And sat.

What should I cook for dinner? Chicken? Meatless Monday? I have all that chicken in the fridge. What should I do first? The work I owe one of my clients or write the blog. I know I was supposed to do the blog first, but I am running out of time. I have to play tennis at 11:00.

I did nothing. Literally. Nothing. For two hours I sat paralyzed on my couch. All of these thoughts and the related to do list swirling in my head. I went to play tennis and throughout the match, I kept looking at my watch.

I am never going to get to 10,000 steps today. I will need to walk. I don't have time to walk.

After the match, I sat in my car, and I was calm.

Why am I obsessing about dinner? I will make something simple. Don't overcomplicate it.

And then I realized. none of this needed to be complicated. No I wasn't going to get 10,000 steps, and I wouldn't have time for using our home gym equipment. But I spent an hour and a half playing tennis. Enjoying friends and exercising. That checks off some self-care boxes.

This anxiety. It has always been with me. Over my life, it has taken on different shapes and personalities. It wasn't until today, that I realized that this Sunday conversation (okay, it's a Sunday through Saturday conversation), was just another version of my anxiety, riling me up and then dropping me to the floor flat on my ass.

I know I am not the first to say this, but good enough will have to be good enough. Dinner does not need to be stressful and it doesn't have to be a fucking masterpiece. I can map out my day, but it doesn't have to be in a blue leatherbound journal and it doesn't have to include 25 tasks.

So now, I have reframed my day.

I meditated, ate well and exercised. No it was not what I tell myself, everyday, that exercise should look like, but that's okay. Making the same fried rice I make every week is enough. These are two of my takeaways, and I know there are more. But I am not adding that to today's to do list.