Motivating myself is starting to feel like a sales job. Everything feels contrived and each morning is a struggle to remember the list of good ideas I made the night before in the name of progressing.
Top of the list? Quit smoking. Then there will inevitably be something about making my bed, drinking water, five minutes of meditation to assess how I’m feeling for the day… It’s a drag some days, sitting in bed ten minutes after the alarm has gone off, counting back from five and willing myself to move. Please understand, I’m not depressed. I’m just tired.
Motivation comes in waves, and it never stays for long. There’s an ebb and flow to it, and I’m truly in awe of people who can haul themselves along on the days when they’d rather order food and become one with their couch. I suppose in the end, it comes down to willpower. Willpower to roll out of bed, willpower to drink that litre of water when you first wake up, willpower that this will be my last pack of ciggies.
YouTube is both a wonderful and a terrible place for motivational videos. There are so many beautiful girls extolling the virtues of a 5am alarm and an hour in the gym before even getting to work, and it’s a hard balance to strike between preaching from the place at the end of the tunnel where the light comes from, and earnestly advising the lackadaisical masses. There’s a smugness to those who have mastered the delicate art of motivation, a smoke and mirrors type of behaviour where the answer seems to be right in front of us yet obscured by the everpresent smile of someone who knows something more than you.
Maybe there’s a secret clubhouse I don’t have access to yet. Perhaps the password is so maddeningly simple, it’s hidden in plain sight.
For now I will keep making lists and ticking everything off, and try to count fewer times back from five before I swing my legs clear of the duvet.
Oh, and I’ll keep trying to quit smoking.