Day 26:

The slide never starts all at once.
It’s little things.

A few missed supplements.
A couple skipped meals.
One workout you force instead of flow through.
And then, all of a sudden… you don’t feel like yourself.
Kind of like how socks disappear in the laundry, or how pumpkins multiply on the porch overnight. Quiet. Sneaky. But noticeable when you finally look around.

That’s where I was.
And today, I made the decision to catch the slide before it turned into a spiral.

After a week of skipping more than I should have, I got back on track with my supplements and reset my baseline. I’ve learned that I don’t have the kind of body that can shrug those things off. Some people can miss their vitamins, eat whatever’s handy, push through a workout, and still be fine. I’m not one of them. My system is sensitive. When I’m consistent, it rewards me with clarity, steadiness, and energy. When I’m not… it doesn’t hesitate to let me know.

So this week, I’m pressing pause on workouts.
Not because I’m giving up — but because I’m paying attention. My body isn’t asking for more effort. It’s asking for more care. (Plus, my yoga mat deserves a break from me, too.)

And honestly, there’s a strange relief in choosing that. Normally, I push myself. Workouts make me feel like I’m “doing enough.” But sometimes, stopping is the bravest decision. Letting my adrenals settle feels like the right kind of discipline — the kind where I listen instead of forcing.

The rest of the day unfolded in its own quiet way.
I decorated the entry with a few fall touches — the kind of small reset that makes a space feel alive again. It’s leaning into a gothic apothecary vibe now: moody candles, dark glass bottles, stacked books, and little curiosities that make it feel like fall has officially moved in.

I fought off a cold with soup, supplements, and water — armed like I was training for the Cold Olympics.

It wasn’t a highlight reel kind of day… more like the blooper reel.
But it was a course correction. And I think that matters more than anything flashy right now.

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Still, by the end of it, I felt that strange tug:
Like I hadn’t done enough… but maybe I’d done more than I should have.

That paradox shows up a lot in this experiment.
The Mum part of me is constantly “on” — there’s always more laundry, more dishes, more pickups, more meals. But the builder part of me wants to make progress, to stack another brick toward my ideal day. And sometimes those two versions of me clash, leaving me in that weird in-between of too much and not enough all at once.

Maybe that tension is part of the build.
Like IKEA instructions — none of it makes sense until suddenly it does.
Maybe learning to notice the slip — and gently redirect — is the quiet work of becoming the person I want to be.

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