I cancelled my physiotherapy appointment. Again. For the second time in two months.
This time, all bets are off. I have no choice but to take better care of myself.
There’s an exercise bike sitting in our workshop.
I need to use it.
I need to do my physio exercises.
I need to go walking.
I keep putting it off.
After I finish eating.
After I do the laundry.
Tomorrow.
And then it catches up with me.
I should’ve done it earlier.
Now I’ve missed the window.
Oh well. I guess I’ll start tomorrow.
I went to check the mail today on my lunch break. It’s across the complex. But I went out and did it.
And I liked it.
I almost always like it.
But I get stuck inside my own head – push back against the motivation until it slips away.
And then I feel horrible.
Because I didn’t go.
Because my body is embarrassing to me.
I’d like to get a walking pad so I can do it at home, when I’m too stubborn or too anxious to go out walking in public by myself.
I need to move the bike out of the workshop.
That would make it easier.
More visible. Less avoidable.
Less… out of sight, out of mind.