So, you've been rudely awoken by the doorbell at 7am and a rather moody looking postman (yeah pal, I don't want to be out of bed either, but here we are) is standing at your door. You do the overly polite British thing by cheerily saying good morning and signing for damn thing when in your head you're cursing the day he was born. You stand on cat grit that the two you're looking after have flicked down the stairs (because they can't contain it to their box, can they) and you're wearing no slippers. Fucks sake, you say to yourself. You go back upstairs to be greeted by not one, but four separate piles of cat puke, one of which is cascading down the side of your reasonably new sofa. Great. Fucking great. You clean it up and feed the (ungrateful) cats you've vowed to look after their breakfast, making sure they're ok (of course) and you get back into bed for ten more minutes. Then you hear it. That noise which can only mean one thing. Yes, Tobi, you will throw up your entire breakfast if you sling it down your neck like that. Once again, you're antibac spraying the floor and muttering how you shouldn't have to deal with this shit under your breath the whole way. You manage to get everything sorted, grab a 30 minute power snooze and eventually drag yourself up. You make pint of orange squash as you think you'll be in a better mood if you're more hydrated, only to kick the full glass over your marble coffee table. Why me, you ask yourself. I've always been a nice person, why now? You shake your debit card and hope it still works, as well as your boyfriends computer mouse (soz) then get the kitchen roll back out again to clean for the third time before 10am. Your day has got to get better, right? Nope. That outfit photo you wanted to shoot? It's now raining. Perfect.
And that, ladies and gents, was my morning on a day in August. What a glorious morning it was, let me tell you. It got to midday and I had sat dwelling on how much of a shit Friday it had been for two hours before I decided enough was enough. This bad start doesn't have to define my day, how can I made this better? By 7pm, I had written seven articles for my blog and scheduled two freelance clients worth of social media for a month. Negative into positive. As a natural pessimistic person, this doesn't always happen so smoothly so I thought I'd share what I did incase you're having a positively shite morning.
You got this
Step One: Have A Word With Yourself | The first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one. Address what went wrong, that there's nothing you can do about it and move on. There's no point obsessively thinking about something, especially if it wasn't anything serious, as it'll only out a downer on your day!
Step Two: Sort Yourself Out | Having a quick five minute shower, pouring myself a cup of tea and getting something decent to eat are the three things I always do for a productive day. Don't sit around in your pjs, get dressed, get a drink down your neck and grab yourself some brain food (I always go for porridge or avo - filling and always on hand) so you can actually get to work.
Step Three: The To-Do List | Got a to do list that's getting a bit out of hand? Prioritise it, rewrite it and get to it. If you don't have one for the day, make one! Hell, add a few extra easy tasks so you can a kick out of ticking them off. Made the bed? Tick. Washed last nights dishes? Tick. Took the rubbish out? Tick tick tick. It does actually help to be tidy before you start your work. Tidy space, tidy mind, as my mother always says.
Step Four: Reward | Now, I'm not saying you need to reward yourself for getting your to do list done, but it's always nice to do a little something for yourself isn't it? I got a takeaway pizza after my hellish day, but putting your phone down and watching an episode of a tv show or simply have an early night - hell, just acknowledging that you got shit done - can prompt you to repeat it all again tomorrow.
Now, let's pray I don't have another morning like the above when we get the kittens...
Helen x
