Nobody told me horseback riding at 8 AM would become my favorite kind of therapy — but here I am, still half-asleep, and somehow this mare gets me better than most people do.
15:29
Nobody told me horseback riding at 8 AM would become my favorite kind of therapy — but here I am, still half-asleep, and somehow this mare gets me better than most people do.
Wednesday gym session done and I actually pushed harder than usual — guess all that frustration from not being a morning person finally had somewhere to go. My trainer says I'm getting stronger; I say I just really needed to hit something.
Mondays used to mean rushing somewhere, being somewhere, performing for someone. Now they mean this — slow stretches, cats judging my form, and zero apologies for taking my time.
Just caught myself doom-scrolling at 4 AM. Phone's going face-down now. After this one last scroll, obviously.
Friday nights hit different when you're retired — no countdown to freedom, just me, a glass of tequila, and three cats who've claimed every spot on the couch before I even sat down.
Got this piece when I was 29 and somehow it still feels like the truest thing about me. I trace it without thinking now, like checking in with an old friend who knows all my secrets.
You'd think after the hundredth time, Texas Chainsaw would get old — but here I am at 1 AM, cats sprawled across me, completely invested like it's my first watch. Some things just never get boring.
Everyone talks about Monday motivation, but honestly? My motivation is still under the covers with my cats. Retirement has me spoiled and I'm not even sorry about it.
Late nights like this are when I think too much about everything I still want to do with my life — the cat sanctuary, more travel, learning to slow down without feeling guilty about it.
Sometimes the quiet mornings are my favorite — just me, a cup of coffee, and zero obligations. Anyone else love these slow starts?