Today's track: "Faithy's Hymn" — Beautiful Chorus
I went to bed at ten o'clock.
That's not the strange part. The strange part is that I stayed there until eight.
If you know me, you know I'm up at five thirty. Six at the latest. I don't particularly like being up earlier than that — though some mornings I am, whether I asked to be or not. But eight in the morning, still horizontal, still under the covers? I couldn't tell you the last time that happened. Years, probably.
Yesterday I finished three straight days of the drip. Three days in the chair.
And when you close out a stretch like that, your body doesn't send a memo. It doesn't ask permission. It just starts quietly turning off lights in rooms you didn't know it controlled.
So I slept. Ten hours of it.
Here's the part nobody tells you — it didn't fix anything. Not right away.
I was foggy the entire day. Slow. That thick-headed feeling where you're technically awake and technically functional, but you're running about two seconds behind the room. Somebody says something and you hear it, and then a beat later you understand it.
Some of that was the chemo. Obviously. But I think some of it was the sleeping in itself. My body's been getting up at five thirty for so long that ten hours felt like jet lag. Like I'd flown somewhere without leaving the house.
It took until late afternoon for me to feel like myself again.
Late afternoon. And when it came back, it wasn't a switch — it was a dimmer. Somebody slowly turning the knob up. I perked up. I felt like Rob again.
And then the day was mostly over.
That's the thing about a slow morning. It doesn't just cost you the morning.
So I figured somebody out there is probably waking up in that same fog today. Maybe you had your own three-day stretch. Maybe it was work, or a kid who didn't sleep, or something you haven't told anybody about yet.
That's why I picked the song I picked.
It's not going to get you moving. That's the whole point of it. It's a song to glide into your Thursday with — put it on, let it run, let the coffee do what coffee does, and don't ask your body to sprint before it's willing to walk.
Give yourself a breath.
I gave myself one yesterday. I didn't have a lot of say in the matter, but I gave myself one. And today I'm getting back at it.
Here's where I'm at, for anybody keeping score at home.
Twelve sessions. That's the whole plan. Twelve times in that chair.
We've done three.
Which means as of this morning, we are a quarter of the way through. And the very next one — the next session, whenever it lands — puts us at a third.
I've started thinking in fractions. It's a habit I picked up in real estate and I can't shake it. Three out of twelve doesn't sound like much. Three is a small number. Twelve is a big one, and when you say them next to each other it sounds like you've barely started.
But a quarter of the way there — that sounds like something. And a third sounds like real ground under your feet.
Same exact number. Different frame. And the frame is half the battle on the days when it doesn't feel like you're moving.
Think about how much of what you're grinding on right now is like that. The deal that's taken four months. The list you've been working. The weight you're trying to move. You count the raw number and it looks like nothing. You count the fraction and suddenly you're a quarter of the way home.
My job in between the sessions is simple. Simple, not easy — those are two different words and I've learned the difference the hard way.
Keep moving my body. Lift. Take in calories — real ones, and more of them than I actually want.
Because the thing that gets you in a stretch like this isn't the treatment. It's what the treatment quietly takes while you're not paying attention. Muscle will walk right out the door if you hold it open. It doesn't announce itself. You just look up one day and there's less of you than there used to be.
So I lift. I eat when I'm not hungry. I move on the days when the couch is making an extremely compelling argument.
That's it. That's the whole protocol. Nothing clever about it.
And honestly? Morale is good. Better than good.
I feel great. Business is good — really good. I've got a stacked calendar today, some meetings I've been looking forward to, the kind where you can feel something actually get built instead of just talked about. I'm fired up to get in there.
Life is good.
So — ease into your day.
Enjoy the music. Let the first hour be a slow one if that's what it has to be. Not every morning is a five thirty morning, and pretending otherwise just means you spend the whole day fighting yourself instead of doing the work.
Give yourself the breath.
And then get back at it.
Warmly,
Rob Bergeron
Owner–Realtor at Award-Winning Winner Realty
OffMarket.deals | Property Partner Data Company
PS: I've got you covered the other direction if you need some vibes. Here is the playlist from The Party in the Woods!
PSS: Did you know that 1 in 3 sellers listing right now are sitting on a mortgage under 5% AND selling anyway? (that's Coldwell Banker's own number). Everybody calls this a frozen market. I call it a shelf full of cheap money sitting on houses… IF you know how to get creative with the financing instead of going to a bank for a fresh 7% loan. That's the main thing Andrew's covering at the live event in Nashville, Aug 14–16. More info: https://request.truka.com/