Absence and the art of getting out of bed

I can't seem to get back on schedule. Everytime I look in the mirror I see puffy eyes that my new eye cream is supposed to be handling, but seems not to be taking seriously. Maybe it's allergies, or that sinus infection I suspect I have, or maybe I'm not sleeping well or enough. Two months ago, I was a machine. Wake every weekday morning at 5:00 a.m., drive to the gym for my daily dose of CrossFit kool-aid and back home again to shower and get ready for work. Each day ran like clockwork. I was getting stronger. I was running on adrenaline. And I was happy.

And then I had to stop.

A forced removal from active participation in my own life...hibernation in the pursuit of academic credit. Talk about throwing a wrench into the gears that run my existence, my being, my place in the everyday. I gave myself a break for what I thought was the immediate after but has since turned into a new normal, and not one that I'm comfortable with.

I still set my alarm for the same time every morning....and nearly every morning for the last month, I've found myself unable to muster whatever that drive was to get out of bed. I have no excuses. I can run in the cold. I can do anything that the whiteboard asks, albeit sometimes in modification. But I just don't want to. I guess that's it. I've lost my "want to."

I know that once I find it, I'll be that happier version of me again. And this is not about being lazy. I have stuff to do, I've just somehow forgotten how to juggle, forgotten how to say "Wait...I have to do this...it's important." I've lost my figurative voice. Or maybe I just feel lost.

I want to go back today. No, really....I do. I didn't want to do it at 5 this morning. But I want to go...after work if at all possible. I know today is deadlifts and sprints and I remember that I love those. And maybe if I keep going...force myself to slip out from under the covers, one foot on the floor and then the other...maybe I'll find my "want to" again.