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Introduction

Overview

I have been a professional teacher for the past 17 years, and over time, I’ve witnessed significant changes in both my habits and my body. Teaching is a deeply fulfilling profession, but it also comes with its fair share of stress, long hours, and emotional labor. As the demands of the job evolved, so did my lifestyle—sometimes in ways I didn’t immediately recognize.

In recent years, I’ve become more aware of how certain patterns, like inconsistent sleep or poor dietary habits, may have been quietly shaping my health. While I’ve always made an effort to manage stress and maintain balance, I now understand that some of my routines—especially around sleep—may not have been serving me well.

This visualization is a personal reflection and exploration of some of the habits I believe are closely tied to both my career and my individual choices. By looking at things like sleep, physical activity, diet, and even the kind of reading I do, I hope to better understand the connections between my lifestyle and my well-being. It’s a small step toward becoming more intentional about how I care for myself while continuing to do the work I love.

Objectives

Ultimately the project must meet certain key objectives: 1. You must provide an short written summary in the dashboard, of your data collection, analysis and visualization methods, including why you chose your methods, and what tools you utilized. 2. Your summary must outline ≥ 5 questions that can be evaluated using a data-driven approach. These questions should be more than just “How many miles did I run”, although a couple of your questions could be stated that way. 3. You must collect, manage, and store the data necessary for this visualization. 4. You must design and create an appropriate set of visualizations (try not to use just one type of visualization) within a dashboard/storyboard that provides insight into your specified questions, with a minimum of ≥ 1 interactive graphical element

Average Hours of Sleep (data from phone app)

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been tracking my sleep data using my phone, mostly through automated sleep detection and some manual logging. As a high school science teacher in my mid-30s, juggling teaching responsibilities alongside graduate school has made rest a precious resource. Looking at this line graph of my daily hours of sleep, one thing is painfully clear—there’s a noticeable dip in the data right around the end of March and into early April. This sudden drop coincides with grading periods and major assignment deadlines from my graduate coursework. I found myself staying up late to finish grading or write academic papers, pushing sleep lower and lower on the priority list. This pattern is a red flag. While it’s easy to justify late nights as “just this once,” repeated neglect of sleep inevitably takes a toll—on my energy, my focus, and even how I show up for my students and peers. This data is a wake-up call (pun intended) for me to be more mindful and intentional about how I manage my time and energy. I need to set clearer boundaries, maybe even schedule non-negotiable wind-down periods each night, and respect the fact that sleep isn’t optional—it’s foundational. Data like this might seem simple, but it’s powerful. It helps me see patterns I might otherwise ignore, and it reminds me that sustainability in teaching means taking care of myself, too.

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Blood Pressure Data

When I first started tracking my blood pressure, I was devastated to see that my readings were consistently high. On October 15, 2022, my blood pressure spiked to 143/103, and that was the moment I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer. After consulting with my doctor, I learned that I would need to start taking maintenance medication for hypertension. At first, it felt like a defeat—like I had somehow failed to take care of myself. But after some reflection and honest conversations with my physician, I realized that this wasn’t entirely within my control. My family has a long medical history of hypertension, and genetics play a huge role in how our bodies manage stress and blood pressure. Since I started taking my medication consistently, I’ve seen a real, measurable improvement in my blood pressure readings. The trend is clear in the data. While I still monitor my numbers closely, I’ve gained a new sense of peace. I’m no longer waiting for things to get worse—I’m actively taking care of myself, and that mindset shift has made all the difference.

## Rows: 24 Columns: 3
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## dbl (2): Systolic, Diastolic
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Steps Data

Walking has always been my default mode of transportation. Growing up in the Philippines, I developed a deep appreciation for walking—not just as a way to get from point A to point B, but as a lifestyle. My friends used to joke, “Don’t ask Von if something is near. To him, every place is walkable.” And honestly, they weren’t wrong. Even now, living in a very different climate and pace of life, I find myself preferring to walk rather than take public transport. If it’s not too cold, I’d rather walk to the subway station than wait for a bus. There’s something about the rhythm of walking, the clarity it brings to my mind, and the sense of agency it gives me over my day that I truly cherish. This step count data is a reflection of that habit. Each spike in the graph is a memory—me choosing to walk to work, stroll through the park after a long day, or just take the scenic route home. It’s also a reminder of how movement is embedded in my identity. I don’t walk just for exercise; I walk because it’s who I am. But what’s equally interesting—and important—are the dips. If you look closely, you’ll notice a consistent dip in my step count every Saturday. That’s intentional. Saturdays are my slow-down days. I stay home, catch up on chores, plan for the upcoming week, and take the time to enjoy the things I rarely get to during the hustle of Monday through Friday—reading, cooking, maybe even just sitting quietly with a good playlist on. These dips aren’t signs of laziness or inconsistency; they’re part of the rhythm. They’re moments of stillness in a week of movement, and I’ve learned to value them just as much. That balance—between motion and rest, between walking through the world and being still in it—is what keeps me grounded. This graph isn’t just data—it’s a layered portrait of my lifestyle, my habits, my identity, and my values. One step, one pause, one choice at a time.

## Rows: 151 Columns: 2
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## chr (1): Date
## dbl (1): Steps
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## ℹ Use `spec()` to retrieve the full column specification for this data.
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## Meals Data {data-width=900} A few months ago, my doctor recommended that I see a nutritionist after my blood work revealed that my triglycerides and LDL levels were unusually high. That news hit me hard. I’ve always loved food—both cooking and eating bring me genuine joy. But I had to face a truth I’d been avoiding: something had to change. The nutritionist encouraged me to reflect on my relationship with food. It wasn’t just about cutting calories or following a fad diet—it was about understanding how and why I eat the way I do. One big realization was that I often overeat, even when I’m already full. I’m someone who finds pleasure in flavors and the ritual of eating, and that can make it easy to go overboard. So I made a conscious decision to start planning my meals more intentionally. I began incorporating more vegetable-based meals throughout the week—not just as side dishes, but as the main event. It was a shift, for sure, but also a creative challenge. How do I make vegetables exciting, filling, and flavorful enough that I don’t feel like I’m “missing” something? That question led me to experiment in the kitchen, and honestly, it’s been fun. I’ve learned to make veggie meals that are rich, satisfying, and totally unique each time. The pie charts show my evolving balance. Over the past months, I’ve shifted more and more toward vegetable-based meals. It’s not about cutting meat out entirely—I still enjoy a good meat dish—but about bringing more intention and balance into what I eat. Each meal is now an act of care, not just for my body but also for my creativity and well-being. Food still brings me joy. But now, it also brings me peace of mind.

## Rows: 4 Columns: 3
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## chr (1): Month
## dbl (2): Vegetable-Based Meals, Meat-Based Meals
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## ℹ Use `spec()` to retrieve the full column specification for this data.
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Reading Data

I’ve always loved reading. There’s something magical about learning something new, getting lost in a story, or simply being immersed in words. Growing up, though, books were a luxury. My family couldn’t always afford them, so when I started earning my own money, one of the first things I invested in was building my own library. Today, I sometimes even buy more books than I can actually read—and I’m okay with that. Just having them around brings me joy. I mostly read three types of material: literature, reference texts, and animated works like comics and manga. Each of these categories offers something different, and I’ve come to realize that the kinds of books I reach for often reflect the season of life I’m in. Right now, I’m in grad school and also conducting a research project on metacognition, so a lot of my reading time goes toward references and academic texts. You can see that clearly in the graph—week after week, research reading dominates my time. It’s demanding, but it’s also deeply satisfying to know I’m working toward something meaningful. When I have time to unwind, I love reading manga. It’s my go-to for fun and lightness, a way to decompress after long hours of study or work. On quieter evenings, I return to literature—especially poetry. I’ve developed this strange but comforting habit of reading sonnets out loud to myself in my room. It’s a kind of meditation, a moment to slow down and breathe. This visualization is more than just data—it’s a reflection of how I balance the demands of life with the things that feed my spirit. Reading isn’t just a habit; it’s a practice of care, a way of staying connected to curiosity, play, and reflection.

## Rows: 3 Columns: 4
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## chr (1): Week
## dbl (3): Literary (avg min), Research (avg min), Leisure (avg min)
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## ℹ Use `spec()` to retrieve the full column specification for this data.
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Summary

Looking at all this data—my sleep patterns, blood pressure, daily steps, meal types, and reading habits—has been a surprisingly intimate and eye-opening experience. These numbers and trends aren’t just charts; they are footprints of my daily life, telling a story I don’t always pause to reflect on. One of the first things I noticed was how much my body responds to the rhythm of my responsibilities. During grading periods and academic deadlines, my sleep noticeably drops. My blood pressure spikes, and meals become less intentional. These moments remind me that my lifestyle is deeply entangled with my work—and that if I’m not careful, it can override my well-being. Tracking my blood pressure and the decision to begin maintenance medication was especially humbling. At first, it felt like defeat. But through conversations with my doctor and a nutritionist, I realized that it’s not about blame—it’s about ownership. Some things are in my control, and some aren’t. But how I respond? That’s entirely up to me. My step count reveals another layer of who I am. Walking has always grounded me. It’s not just about physical activity; it’s about independence, presence, and reflection. The Saturdays where my steps dip are intentional choices—to rest, to reset, to recharge—and I no longer see that as a shortcoming but a sign of self-awareness. Meal tracking added another dimension. I’ve always loved food, and cooking is one of my favorite creative outlets. But with higher triglycerides and LDL levels, I’ve been challenged to rethink my relationship with food—not to restrict joy, but to redirect it. Finding ways to make vegetable-based meals exciting has pushed me to be both healthier and more imaginative in the kitchen. And then there’s my reading data—a quiet yet powerful portrait of what fuels my mind and soul. The shifts between reference texts, manga, and literature echo how I move through the world: toggling between responsibility, rest, and reflection. Academic pressures may dominate now, but literature and leisure always find their way back into the mix. They are the soft spaces where I return to myself. What this entire exercise has shown me is that my habits are not random—they’re responsive. They mirror my stress, my values, my goals, and even my emotional needs. Seeing them visualized has helped me identify both what’s working and what needs more care. It’s a reminder that health isn’t just about numbers—it’s about balance, intention, and compassion. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being aware. And from that awareness, I can make better, kinder decisions—one meal, one walk, one page, one deep breath at a time.