Currently it’s eight-forty-five in the evening, and I’m lying in bed wearing yesterday’s clothes. I hate that my daily selfies are a dead giveaway as to how often I take a shower and change outfits. Or don’t, rather. Fuck it. I’m not here to impress anybody.

This afternoon I read twenty pages in a three-hundred page book I started over a month ago. This made one hundred pages total. Which book doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I just couldn’t get into it, despite the fact that I often found myself smiling or laughing out loud. Anyway, even though I have a giant hard-on for completing things I start, I finally said screw it and permanently closed the cover. This is the second time I’ve done this recently and is perhaps an indication that I’m finally learning that just because you’ve invested in something doesn’t mean you have to keep investing in it.

I have a difficult time with the idea that things in life aren’t fixed or permanent. I think, If you start a book, you should finish it. Likewise, I think if you start a diet or workout regimen, it should last forever. I’m a “til death do us part” type of guy. Of course, this puts a lot of pressure on a person (me). A few months ago when I had knee surgery and started rehab, I also gave up coffee. But a week ago I picked it back up. At the same time, I started slacking on my rehab. I was out-of-town house sitting and just got out of the routine. And whereas part of me gets that “shit happens,” another part of me feels like I’m sinning–for quitting a book, for not being at the gym this very minute, for consuming caffeine (gasp).

I blame the ten commandments.

I’ll explain shortly.

After I quit the book I just mentioned, I started (and finished) one my therapist recommended about knowing your personal value. It was written specifically for women, but I found it helpful. All too often I underrate myself or what I have to offer. Too many times I’ve provided fabulous service to people in exchange for peanuts or their kind words. So they’d like me. But at the book said, compliments don’t pay bills.

One of my takeaways from the book was that YOU determine your value. Also, YOU are responsible for making sure you get paid what you’re worth or that others treat you like you want to be treated. I’m talking about boundaries. Rarely is anyone else going to say, “Gosh, Betty, we really should be paying you more for all you do around here.” Or, “You know, Jack, I’ve been thinking, and I interrupt you constantly and would like to apologize for that.” Rather, each of us has to stand up for ourselves.

This sucks and is hard to do.

Of course, before you can stand up for yourself, you have to know what your personal rules are. Said another way, you have to draw a line in the sand before you know whether or not someone has stepped over it. This is where the ten commandments come in. What I mean is that for the longest time I took my personal rules from a book–The Bible. Not just the ten commandments, but a lot of other commandments too. For example, I used to not eat pork because The Bible calls swine’s flesh (as well as homosexuality) an abomination. Think about that the next time you eat a ham sandwich. (Or sleep with someone of the same sex.) I’m not here to debate The Bible, but my point is that it’s easy to adopt someone else’s rules for your life. There’s a certainty in it. You think, The Bible says, my doctor says, my therapist says.

What’s harder, of course, is to take personal responsibility for every choice you make, to not lay praise or blame on an outside source. One of the exercises I’ve done in therapy is to write out a list–here’s what I’ll accept, here’s what I won’t accept. As an example, I don’t like it when people, especially women, touch me without being invited to (like, would you like to dance?). And whereas I’ll accept them touching my shoulder, I won’t accept them touching my hips or my butt. That’s my rule. That’s my boundary. Not because The Bible says so, but because I say so. Right or wrong, it’s my choice.

So hands off.

Having shared this rule about my personal space, I admit that I don’t enforce it all the time. Recently I ran into someone at Walmart and let them hug me even though I was anything but into it. I mean, it was midnight and I was taken by surprise. My defenses were down. If I had it to do over again or my leg worked better, I’d say, “No thank you” or run away. But shit happens. Anyway, my point is that even when we have rules for our lives, nothing ever works or is true one-hundred percent of the time. That is, nothing in life is that certain because life isn’t that certain. Said another way, life is fluid, like our emotions or the weather. We want something solid, a rule we can follow all the time, but there’s no such thing. Things are always changing.

This means our rules are always changing too. I’m not arguing for extremes in morality. I mentioned the ten commandments, but not to suggest that one day it’s not okay to envy or kill you neighbor and the next day it is. I only brought them up to say that often, for me, my personal rules (like, finish what you start and don’t drink coffee) feel as if they have been handed down to my by the heavens and, therefore, have cosmic consequences if broken. Of course, this is not the case. I made those rules up and can break them if I want to. Because, for one thing, I’m not even the same person I was when I made the rule. Like the weather and everything else in life, I’ve changed since then.

Even though my clothes haven’t.

This is the most difficult thing for me, letting myself and what I need change from day-to-day. Because I’d prefer something more permanent, something fixed, something certain. My friend Bonnie says that I thrive on a good routine. She’s right. I do. Still, I’m coming to think that routines and rules are like seasons. They last a while, then they disappear. If they come back again, fine. If they don’t, fine. I’m free to determine what’s best for me from moment-to-moment. I’m free to invest in a book, behavior, or relationship for hours or years then decide it’s no longer working for me. (Bye, Felicia.) We are all this free. We are all autonomous.