Some Things I’m Doing in an Initial Attempt at Self-improvement
I’m just trying to tip the scales in a positive direction a little bit.
Counting my drinks so I’ll be able to quantify how much I’m cutting back on my evening red wine consumption (or vice-versa), and ensuring I don’t cheat with heavy pours by placing a piece of blue painter’s tape on my stemless glass to denote the 5-ounce mark.
Speaking of the sauce: Being more mindful about the real reason why I’d like another glass if I’m about to go for one. Is it boredom? Is it to unhealthily combat sadness? Is it to further enhance an experience I’m already enjoying (Magic: The Gathering)? Or to make something I despise more palatable (cleaning my apartment)? Is it something seemingly random that I have some sort Pavlovian-adjacent response to (I’m binge-watching Cougartown again and all they do is drink wine)? I’m not saying I always make the best decision, but knowing the reason helps me at least better understand myself and be less likely to gratuitously imbibe.
Purchasing party veggie trays and challenging myself to crush the whole thing, solo, before they go bad. This behavior is a real juxtaposition with many of the dietary habits I’m attempting to distance myself from — namely the tendency to neglect feeding myself until I come to the sudden realization that I’m absolutely famished and fire up UberEats, one of several apps I consider frenemies, way too late at night. I do still sometimes dip the veggies in the ranch dip that comes with them, though. Or peanut butter. What can I say? I’m a naughty boy.
Going to the grocery store every day or two and shopping in smaller, fresher batches, making a point do do this when I already have a culinary mood in mind, and have not touched the Devil’s Lettuce.
Cutting back on Zyns ripped by subbing in big ole’ chaws of Big League Chew. The Blue Raspberry flavor really slaps. i bet you’ve never logged onto a Zoom call just chompin’ away with your mouth all blue, but you should try it. Really makes you feel alive.
Walking in both fits and spurts, sometimes to get from Point A to B and other times simply to get some exercise. I’ve even taken to reading while getting some steps in on the treadmill at the gym. Worth mentioning I did it in jeans and a flannel recently when I had a little break from work, and felt less weird about it than I thought I would have.
Journaling my absolute tits off. I’ve always done this, but I do it more prolifically now. In case you haven’t noticed, writing helps me work through a lot of things. It’s mostly stream-of-consciousness drivel but it aids in clearing the proverbial barrel.
Taking myself to the movies more frequently. It’s something I’ve always very much enjoyed that, like so many things, has gone more to the wayside since the pandemic. It’s also part of a regimen I’m putting in place to re-train myself to focus on one single thing at a time instead of multitasking and spreading myself too thin, even when it comes to entertainment. Something that, like so many things, has gone more to the wayside for me since the uprise of various technologies and some dumb obsession with feeling like I’m almost always doing something “productive.” And there is popcorn.
Using the Rocket Money app to get some really enlightening and sometimes somewhat disturbing insights into my spending habits. Like, for example, the sum total of earnings I’ve allocated to satiate an addiction to Faherty apparel. Then I consider what else I could more prudently spend those funds on. Like the amount of money I’m soon to find out I owe the IRS. Another trick I use is a comparative one. “Oh, that shacket cost just slightly under the fee for one therapy session? Interesting.”
Having a plan for what I really want to watch before I fire up the TV, so I eliminate the time I spend aimlessly scrolling in favor of time actually consuming some content, which I opine is a productive activity in and of itself. If we wanna do the comparative thing again, it takes me mere moments to discern what kind of mood I’m in if I’m not overwhelmed by choices, when it takes me an average of one-and-a-half episodes of I Think You Should Leave before I finally settle on rewatching I Think You Should Leave.
Trying new or new-ish things to see if I like them and they add enjoyment or fulfillment to my life experience, even if on a minuscule level. I always told myself I genuinely prefer my coffee black. Unsure why this was a point of pride for me. Then one morning I decided on a whim to throw some French Vanilla creamer in there, and now nothing will ever be the same. Could be a gateway drug, though. I saw some Snickers-flavored creamer at the grocery store and got excited, so might be down a path from which I’ll never return.
Getting out of bed when I wake up instead of trying to convince myself I’m going to fall back asleep when I know deep down I most certainly am not going to. It’s not great for me to start the day lying restlessly hiding under the covers thinking about all the things I’ll soon have to do. If it’s a reasonable hour, of course. I don’t head out for a walk when I wake up at 3 or 4 a.m. Much as I admire David Sedaris, I don’t emulate everything he does.
Going to bed later. Probably seems counterintuitive to see this in a missive about attempted self-improvement, but I got into a phase (or what some may refer to as seasonal depression) during which I would convince myself that spending a lot of time in bed, like more than necessary, would give me a better shot at piecing together something in the area of eight hours. It didn’t work. So now I try to tire myself out in constructive ways and then hit the sack for a more normal period of time and hope for the best.
Watching at least one episode of Jeopardy most nights. Entertaining and educational with a competitive element? That’s gonna be a big ole’ “fuck yeah” from me. It keeps me sharp, helping me potentially delay the day when I start to seriously wonder if I should be juicing with Prevagen. (Interesting that I see Prevagen ads almost exclusively during Jeopardy episodes.) Since it’s on at 3:30 p.m. in Chicago for some perverse and insubordinate reason, I started recording every episode. Then I forgot about it. For more than a year. (Maybe I should look into Prevagen. Goddamnit.) Anyway, just yesterday I discovered a cache of 389 unwatched episodes, which was a real treat.
Avoiding melancholy music sometimes. Because it turns out leaning into the sadness isn’t always the only option.
