(Navel-gazing) The trials and tribulations of being an adult

 

Cats are the ultimate Zen masters, and I can only hope that one day, I get to come back as one. Preferably one as spoiled as Mr. Bear, above, who snoozes most of the day and has us to wait on him hand and foot. But honestly, cats have it made.

 

I recently realized two things about life:

  1. I have a bullet journal to help me schedule myself, so I stop missing things and generally stressing myself out.
  2. Setting up my bullet journal stresses me out by showing me everything I have to do as an adult.

I totally need an adult to take care of me, because I’m done being an adult. Or I guess I need an adultier adult, because this whole “Being responsible for my own bedtime and booze” is pretty cool.

 

I need people, is what I need. People to pay my bills, run my errands, work my job, and give me the money. So I can write. Or something.

 

I’m now 1 month post-Whole30, and while I’ve backslid a bit (oh, sugar, I can’t quit you), I’m still noticing that I’m feeling pretty good. My bloodwork came back normal for the first time in a long, long time, and my doctors are very pleased. I miss cheese a bit, but it’s a small price to pay for no brain-fog, a boosted immune system, more energy, and sleeping better. I’ll take it. I’ve given up 99% of dairy, and reined in my grains quite a bit.

 

I’m working on getting better at this (I guess, growing into that adultier adult I was looking for), but as I’ve been reminded lately, we’re all a work in progress.

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