Is it Fucking Groundhog Day?

My desperate attempt to hack a monotonous routine

In the last 12 years with my disability, I have found myself greatly influenced by small shifts.

Routine keeps me grounded, but within that, I keep learning to stay mindful of how little changes can answer my spirit’s need for imagination, and the acknowledgment that I can’t be held static. I can sweetly honor my humanness by being in colorful flow.

In my bartending days, sharing my flair. *image desc. - Kelsey stealthily giving the finger to the camera while behind a bar

My disability requires routine — a symphony of care, like we all need daily, however, mine are…specific…at times a time-consuming masterpiece, and others, a second-night slump of a performance. Sometimes, they have me feeling tethered and claustrophobic, flailing desperately to get to the surface, trapped inside of a time capsule that steals precious ticking seconds, easily turning into hours with all the layered tasks.

As much as I try to find what feels like real life within the languid checklist, it’s not easy, and sometimes it’s downright torture. My morning routine can feel dominated by an urge to rush, to get to the part where I’m free-functioning, alone, just doing my day outside the demands of quad life. Doing anything else outside of this — the goals, the dreams, the adulting, the outside fucking world, all of it — to lift the pressure weighing on me.

scenes from my so-quad life. *image desc. — shot from kelsey’s perspective looking down at her body while lying in bed in brown scalloped underwear

I’ve had to find life within my care routine. Real life, not just mindlessly going through the motions. But sometimes, it escapes me. I’ve had to dedicate myself to finding beauty, sensuality and grace in the mundane. Filling my space and my senses with things that evoke presence, wonder, gratitude, joy, pleasure and meaning.

Things like bedside plants, delicious body oil after a shower, incense in the morning, yoga in bed, audiobooks, music, music and more music — for god’s sake I’m in the top 1% of Spotify listeners, and it’s not just because of my deep love of music…

But lately, it all just isn’t enough.

I’ve been waking up with my heart pounding and my breath elusive, trying to calm my nerves and reassure myself that I can do this. But it just hasn’t been working. No matter what I do, I’m plagued by what I wish I was doing instead. ‘I wish I was writing instead of nursing my aching paralyzed body, instead of doing all these tasks. I wish I didn’t have to do this all…AGAIN.’

It’s been feeling like Groundhog Day, the 90’s film with Bill Murray, where he wakes up to everyday being Groundhog Day. Everyday is the same — over and over and over again. So he has to find a hack to escape the insanity.

a scene from the film, Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray’s character is seemingly letting a groundhog drive his car

I’ve been brainstorming how to hack my morning panic, my downward spiral within this repetitious cycle. I’ve been listening closely for what it is that’s calling for change, so I too can escape the insanity.

This is when I know I have to lean into adaptation, creativity and pleasure. This is when the small shifts can bring a renewed energy and the necessary change to liberate whatever it is that feels trapped, unsung.

So this morning I decided to switch things up.