26/90,

I will never again underestimate the power of a good Spring-cleaning style re-do of my room.

I couldn't stop thinking about moving last night. How it's really gaining on me. How I have too much stuff to ever fit into a vehicle and move back to Ohio. How I will have to scour every inch of my room to remove rabbit damage.

So I began throwing things into the center of my room: magazines I'd kept because I like the covers; Adidas from my sophomore year of high school that no longer have arches; candles with their wicks burnt out; duffel bags with no zippers; storage containers and boxes that Baby has chewed up. I threw things until I couldn't see my bed.

And then I moved my bed. For the last year and a half, I've been using a set of folding doors as a sort of screen in my room, providing privacy (a place to throw my laundry that I don't have time to fold) and a place for Baby to run (chew carpet).

I would squeeze my yoga mat in front of my desk and bed. Laying down with my arms stretched out for the morning relaxation positions, my fingers would skim desk and folding door. Now, I have space more than a yard, a big rectangle for flopping on my newly clean floor to do my homework or yoga, a landing strip for Baby when she dives off of my bed.

My mind feels just as open. Last night, I was in a panic. This is nothing unusual. One thing goes against my plans for the day, and I don't know what to do with myself. I think that I'll never get caught up, let alone get ahead.

I'm letting it go. Last night, I simply couldn't stand myself. I realized that I am unhappy with my body because I have been mistreating it lately. I can't expect it to hold together when the things that I sacrifice each day are the things that make me feel exponentially better about the skin I'm in--yoga, slowing down to eat food that does not come from a box or a paper bag.

There are small sacrifices each day, and when I'm increasingly apathetic toward my last semester of college, it gets harder to make these decisions. One thing must be settled, though: I cannot continue sacrificing myself.

The feeling that I had when I stretched out on the yoga mat in my new, open room was the reminder I needed. Nothing will be really gained in the thirty minutes I give myself for exercise. No assignment will ruin my chance at graduation. No professor can stay mad at me long enough to keep me out of graduate school.

Now, let's try all of this again. For the second day in a row, I overslept by an hour. I am making myself be okay with this. I am reminding myself how tired my body has been. I am moving on from here, with post-yoga calmness and a focus on life after graduation (only two months, really) instead of the stress of each assignment.