(Hello. My Name is Kim, and I Have a Lazy Monkey On My Back)

I’m slowly coming back to life after a 9-day vacation.  I feel more like I’m coming off of a month long bender.

It started out just fine.  With all good intentions.  I woke up the first morning and took a run around the lake. The second day, it was too hot to run, or so my monkey-mind told me.  So I practiced yoga outside for a (very) little while.  The third day the monkey told me it was too hot to run or practice.  And, okay, maybe I was a little hung over from beers around the campfire the night before, or perhaps dehydrated from the salt in the entire bag of sour cream and onion chips I had eaten.  So I opted out.  The fourth day, I’m not sure what the reason was. Let’s just say it was too hot again. Fifth day? You got it. Too hot.

By the sixth day I was back to my old lazy self.  I had no thought of running or practicing, and I was resigned to allowing myself some time off. I had no idea for a blog post, and I didn’t bring my laptop. So I decided to skip it, even though I could’ve posted form my phone.   “Why bother?” the monkey asked. “Just let yourself off the hook for the rest of the week.  Why push it? We’re on vacation.”  Vacation from self-discipline, apparently.

I figured I would get back on that real-life-wagon next Monday.   Days 7,8 and 9 consisted of hammock, beach chair, fireside chair, fried comfort foods and (yumm) ice-cold beer.

How easy it is to slip back into old habits. How easy it is to trick myself into thinking that this is all just fine.  It’s just a few days. I’m not going back to this forever.  Just for this week.  I can do this for just a few more days.   (Just one fix)

But it started to feel too comfortable.  Like spending time with a dear old friend. Hello, laziness. Welcome back! I missed you!  I really, really missed you! I started to get the feeling that a few days could easily turn into a few more days, and a few more.  I knew I could quickly ease back into the old lifestyle.

It was on the ride home, when I had a moment of quiet, and took a deep breath, that I realized I needed an intervention.

Someone has to stop me before I do some real damage!  I have to get to a yoga class.  I have to sit with my breath, in a roomful of yogi-witnesses. I have to get mindful again.  Flow and move, and get in the zone.  I have to feel that yoga buzz and get myself re-addicted to the good stuff.  The stuff that really works for me.  The stuff that is way better for me.

I know this.  I’m not an idiot.    I’ve worked hard to get myself to this place where I feel really good. Healthy. Peaceful.  Comfortable with the choices I am making and the way my life is going.  So why am I sabotaging myself? Why is it so tempting to sink back into that easy chair?

On my first night back, I took a class.  I stepped onto my mat, heavy with guilt, and heavier in the hips.  With choppy breaths and racing thoughts. Silently admonishing myself for having neglected my body and my breath.

But when I rolled up my mat at the end of class, my breaths were smooth. My mind was clear. My heart was light. And I realized that my bad, bad vacation was really a good thing.  A lesson was learned…In this life, I will slip. And when I slip, I can find my way back.   Redeem myself.  Just roll out the mat, you lazy monkey.  And get on it.

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