Death by Regimentation

I lead a pretty regimented life. I’ve gotten good at juggling multiple activities at once and sticking to carefully mapped out schedules. Regimens are good for me. I need specific plans for eating, exercise and career/family management.

But I have to admit, all that regimentation is like a noose around my neck lately.

Mood music:

I recently reined in my eating plan and got back to exercising because my health was beginning to drift. I have a new therapist and a new doctor. And though the going has been tough, we’re adjusting to the boys’ new school.

All in all, good progress.

Yet I’m almost constantly on the road. I drive to and from work. I pick up the kids from school. Then it’s back out for this appointment or that activity. This is the grind multiple days per week usually.

It’s all good. It’s what I signed up for, so to speak. But I’m realizing more than ever that my shoulders aren’t as strong as they should be to carry the weight.

I don’t need or want a change in routine. But I do need to find a better way to manage it all without feeling beaten down.

Better eating and steady exercise is a big step in the right direction. My sleep needs work. I’ve yet to figure out why I keep waking up in the middle of the night and staying up for an hour or more at a time. Better sleep would most definitely make everything else more manageable. I use a CPAP that sometimes feels like more trouble than it’s worth because the mask doesn’t fit right. One more thing to work on, which means more appointments.

I don’t tell you all this to complain. This is more an exercise in self-assessment. I need to make more adjustments to how I live my days, and posts like this usually mark the turning points.

I also share it because a lot of you have the same pressures. There’s no getting around the craziness, but it always helps to know that you’re not alone in the struggle.

You could also say misery loves company.

Or, as Red Green likes to say, “I’m pullin’ for ya. We’re all in this together.”

red green

So Many Appointments, So Little Sanity

This year’s seasonal depression comes with a twist. It’s not necessarily something new, but it’s something I’m more aware of these days: The calendar is filled with too many appointments.

Mood music:

When you have kids and a busy job, a lot of running around is expected. Lately, though, it seems like running around is all I do. Last week was a pretty good example: A medical appointment for me, two for Duncan (his therapist and new a new psychiatrist), a Scout meeting for each son and the school drop-offs and pick-ups.

It’s all normal, necessary stuff. I have to take care of my health, and we have to take care of our children. The school commute is the result of our choice to put the boys in a new school, and every parent these days is a taxi driver, running kids from one activity to the next. I don’t regret any of it. All the appointments for Duncan have especially been worth it, because we’ve gotten a clearer fix on his challenges and the best remedies.

But with the darkness of the coming winter and the rushing and running that come with the holiday season, each appointment feels like a hot pin prick to the eye.

I long for a week where I can just exist at home once the work day is done. It’s not going to happen, so I have to fall back on my coping tools.

It’s a funny thing about this time of year: I have a huge box of mental tools and know how to use them, but I’m so mentally tired that I have trouble finding the discipline to open the box.

I can’t let that continue, so I’m making a big effort to jolt myself out of the funk.

Last week I started increasing the breathing exercises I’ve learned. When commuting, my habit has been to use the tool of music therapy exclusively, cranking the metal to 11. But I have to add some variety, so I’m trying to do the music for part of the ride and the breathing exercises for the other part.

I’m making a point to play guitar for at least 30 minutes a day.

I’m re-introducing exercise into my regimen. In recent years I haven’t exercised much beyond walking because my food plan kept the weight in check without it. But I changed my eating plan earlier this year because I was getting bored. I didn’t up the exercise to match the increased portions, and as a result I’ve gained 15 pounds. I’ve started jogging laps around the garage, but Erin and I are looking to either buy an elliptical machine or get a gym membership. My new doctor is pushing me toward exercise, too; he isn’t happy with my borderline blood pressure and cholesterol.

Finally, I have a new therapist who is determined to help me build a fresh regimen for using all the tools. Appointments to see her involve 45-minute commutes back and forth, which adds to the overall stress. But she’s good, and I’m betting that the coaching she gives me balances things out.

It’s going to be a long winter. But with some luck, prayer and effort, it’ll be a healing one.

Gremlins