Consistency

One of my favorite things about Blake has always been his adherence to a strict routine.

I know that sounds weird, but hear me out.

Since we first started dating, I’ve thought the way he executes a well-regimented routine is one of Blake’s most attractive features.

Probably because at the time, I was a mess.

Poor Blake started dating me at the beginning of the end of my drinking, and when we started dating, I had absolutely no routine.

Now it makes a bit more sense why I was so in awe of his, right?

When I was getting sober, I craved a routine like Blake’s. I wanted to be a person with a routine they could stick to, a structure that kept them together.

Fast forward some nine years: I’m five-plus years sober, and here we are, Blake and me happily living together. I get to admire that well-oiled machine of a man every day.

And I have a routine of my very own. Loving — and now living with — someone consistent has slowly taught me to become consistent with myself.

Since moving to PA, developing my new habits and routines has been one of my favorite things.

I’ve cherished my morning coffees, sitting in my office journaling while I watch the sky brighten.

In January, I kicked off a great new morning routine when I started my unemployment. I’d wake up every day around 6:30 a.m. and do a Peloton ride. Then I’d eat my green gummies while my coffee brewed and spend the next few hours journaling and enjoying my coffee before barre class.

It was the perfect morning routine.

Until I left it.

When I went to Florida in January, I was excited for the vacation but admittedly sad about leaving my routine behind. I did what I could to maintain parts of it, packing up my green gummies and my journal to take with me.

But then I got sick.

I came home from Florida with the flu, and it wreaked havoc on my life.

As we’ve been over before, I don’t do sick well. And this one was a doozy. I ended up in bed for weeks, sick for over a month.

So much for my great routine.

My beautiful habit tracker, which had been glowing with the boxes I’d ticked off with highlighters, went stark white as I lay in bed day after day, my Peloton streak withering away.

Finally, slowly but surely, I’ve started feeling better. And as I have, I’ve been slowly putting the building blocks of my routine back together. I’ve started drinking coffee and journaling in the mornings again. This morning I woke up and rode my Peloton.

And throughout all of this, there’s been one consistent piece: Blake. All while I was sick, there he was, telling me just to “rest up.” He never got resentful when I napped while he worked all day, never tired of me complaining about how tired I was — even when he’s the one working full time.

And every day, even as my routine fell apart, and now as I work to build it back up, I watch him — old faithful — continue his. And I count my blessings that today, even when I’ve been sick, even when my routine is in shreds, I can still count on Blake and his consistency.