Routine

I am no good with routine. I never have been. Perhaps my parents weren’t good at it either. I have childhood memories not of babysitters but of smoky bars and loud country music. Bored and tired, I was to be quiet and not interrupt – as if anyone could have heard me over the noise anyway. Even with my eyes stinging and my ears ringing, I would still fall asleep in the car on the way home. Dad worked the evening shift and sometimes I would fall asleep in bed with Mom. When I was little, he would carry me to my bed when he got home from work at 1am. When I got too big to be carried, he had to figure out how to convince this sleepy slug to shuffle across the hallway on her own. I was always hard to get out of bed in the morning (still am), and always running to catch the bus at the last minute. I had to walk to school in middle and high school, and never could be ready early enough to walk with the other kids. Instead, I procrastinated on getting up until absolutely necessary, and was frequently late for home room. By high school, my parents were separated and my father left me with the responsibility of taking care of myself because he worked when I was home and I was at school when he was home. He also believed so strongly in self-responsibility that I never had a curfew. By my second year of college, I was in a long-term abusive relationship. Chaos flowed around me as much as within me.

Not a lot of routine in my life. I despise routine.

As much as my body craves it, my mind fights it. I rebel against any sort of routine. I’m compliant with my meds, but I never take them at exactly the same time every morning. Or evening. Or bedtime. So setting the alarm to take my bedtime meds is really just a suggestion and it lets me know that 10pm has rolled around again. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, rarely the same time now. Although when I am working, meals do happen at roughly the same time, give or take an hour.

But I hate routine. It’s boring. This from a girl who, from all outward appearances, is boring. Even I think I’m boring. Although, DH doesn’t think I’m boring and he probably knows better than I.

I’m no good at organization either. I understand the concept, it’s the practice that eludes me.

Back to routines… I have a confession to make. I haven’t kept up my new routines like four things or one mile. I’ve outgrown four things for now (let’s hope it stays that way) and the weather just bounces around so much that it’s an easy excuse not to walk. The only routine I’ve kept up with is my PT exercises – I do them every day, albeit not at the same time every day.

Why do I fight routine so much? Is it just in my contrary nature? Does anyone else out there have trouble with routines? How do you deal with it?