Some days, despite good food and good sleep, we just wake up exhausted for no discernable reason. On those days we tend to distract ourselves, flipping through our calendars, trolling our mental rolodex of recent food choices, bedtimes, electronics usage. And while all of those things impact our vital ability to show up in this world, they aren't the whole story.
Chances are, these days--the ones you've Sherlocked to no avail--are the aftermath of days, maybe weeks or months, of being hijacked by that alterego creature you think you're supposed to be. We all have one. We pull her out when our lizard brain, partially and permanently damaged from the social pressures of middle school, feels threatened. A meeting, a party, a date, an interview, a reunion, or simply living up to our social media profile draws her out. We're so used to the takeover that we just let it happen, not realizing until, exhausted, we crash into the aftermath.
The only answer (and it's a lovely, freeing answer) is to stop apologizing for who we are. Let's do it. Here, I'll go first: I no longer apologize for/feel embarrassed by: my love of early nights (8pm at the latest); my love of early mornings (4am at the latest); my love of routine; getting stressed when I don't have control over meals or meal times; my homebody tendencies; my need for daily yoga; my need to get outside for at least half an hour a day; my love of solitude; my single-minded reading choices (mysteries, Mary Oliver poems, and homesteading autobiographies). And here's what I'll forgive myself for: these days, my body needs a gentler yoga practice; I will always be hypersensitive to my physical well being; inevitably, some days are just unproductive--healthy people call this rest. I am not lazy; I have simply worn myself to the bone, worrying that I'm never doing quite enough.
And now we'll see how well I awaken tomorrow.