When I woke up today, I reached for my pills and happily concluded that it’s only Wednesday. In the past when Wednesday rolled around, I would be wishing for Thursday, one day closer to the weekend. What does that even mean? I don’t work! And it’s been over forty years since I’ve been in a college classroom, and I am still thinking of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday as “school days.” If you invite me to an event on a Sunday night, my inclination is to say, “It’s a school night.” It’s so odd to me that I still compartmentalize my days like this. I am not a student, and I do not work, so one night shouldn’t be different than any other night.
I’ve been doing really well practicing mindfulness, so this isn’t about that. This is about an unconscious differentiating of each of the seven days of the week. Maybe the only answer to fully living in the moment is to throw away the daily pill organizer and find one like this:
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