Day 6 – Rebellion, Recovery, and the 1% Rule

Day 6:

So… after deciding to live a “rebellious day” yesterday (see my blog post) and giving myself permission to occasionally not follow the script… something unexpected happened.

I didn’t have to, but I ended up wanting to do a lot of my ideal day anyway. That felt… empowering. Like, “Oh — maybe structure isn’t the enemy. Maybe I just needed to choose it, not be forced into it.”

• I wanted to write.
• I wanted to post.
• I wanted to do some of the things I had been making myself do.

I didn’t want to do others, so I tried to adapt them.
Instead of walking after every meal, I figured wandering Hobby Lobby to look at all the Fall decor (aka pumpkin-scented cardio) would be enough.
Instead of hitting my 80 oz of water, I just drank here and there (and skipped my usual electrolytes).
I even let myself have my favorite little treat — Andy’s frozen custard (kid-sized, of course).
And to top it off, I had a show last night (I’m a singer/musician in a couple of local bands), so rebellion got its encore.

But because some of my health rhythms were off (those were the ones I threw out the window EEK), I felt it later. My body had a different story to tell.

I didn’t sleep well. I swelled up during the show and ended up taking my shoes off for the last set — which was kind of charming from the audience’s point of view, but not ideal. And it just reminded me that I can’t rebel against rhythm without paying some kind of toll.

This morning, the recovery part hit hard.

I woke up with very low flarmahoogans — scraping the bottom. Every bit of energy I had was spent the night before — because I hadn’t guarded any of it. In the middle of my last set (which was around 10:45PM) I hit a wall. I had 45 minutes left and seriously considered ordering a drink just to take the edge off… but I knew that would backfire. I was already swollen, and alcohol would’ve made that worse — not just for the night, but for the next few days. So I texted Josh from the stage and asked for water instead.

Turns out, that one choice was the first step back toward rhythm.

Still, my body wasn’t happy. I had to pee four times — which felt like a personal attack from my almost-40-year-old bladder, who clearly thinks she’s the main character now. When I finally got up, I was wrecked. But I knew I couldn’t coast again. My mental self might’ve needed the break, but my physical self was desperate for rhythm. So I told Glitch, “Start my day.” And once I had that container in place, everything felt easier.

Today felt like a 1% kind of day. And honestly? That counts.

It was 12:50 in the afternoon, and I had just gotten out of the shower. Normally, I’d be well into my day by 10AM. I was obviously dragging from the night before. Every little thing I did was done at a fraction of what I’d hoped… but I still did it.

• I went on a five-minute walk instead of ten.
• I did ten minutes of Pilates instead of twenty.
• I got dressed in cozy elevated clothes — not quite where I usually land, but not Harry Potter pajamas either (though I swear I heard them whisper “Mischief Managed” from the drawer).

This is the kind of day I used to disappear into. I would’ve curled up, turned on a movie, and called it. But the only reason I didn’t today was because something in me whispered: just show up. Even a little. Even late.

It’s not about perfection. It’s about participation.

So I’m doing my damnedest to keep showing up — even if I’m running behind in my own story. I still get to be the one writing it.

Even though the day started slow and everything was scaled down, I was mostly able to get back to the rhythm of my ideal day. And I can already feel it…

And tomorrow? Tomorrow the plot twist is mine to write.

See you then.
—Jenli