Yesterday I had one of those days that approached what was once considered normal, but which I now realize is not at all the way I want to spend my life and time. Am I in a cocoon which I refuse to leave? or is something else going on?
Let’s start with yesterday. In what now feels like another life it would have been just another day: two doctor’s appointments (only one for me) a prescription run, book club, two meetings. Yet I chafed. I went out, I came home, had lunch and went out again. I missed book club because one of those appointments got in the way. I didn’t want to go to meetings, even Zoom meetings. I wanted to zone out on the sofa with my knitting in my hands and something entertainingly mindless on the tv.
But why?
As we all know the last two months have not been particularly easy. And yet I am remarkably privileged. I have a safe home. I have a yard so I can go outdoors without meeting other people. I can afford food. I can afford Tikka’s medications. I am not worrying about how to pay the mortgage, the utility bill, my insurance premiums. I am well. Many others are not so fortunate.
On the social side of things, I miss people. I miss sitting with friends with a drink, adult or otherwise, the casual camaraderie of friendship, of sitting close together, of that palpable sense of presence that exists in all living things, the soul we might call it in humans, that thing that is there in all of us. That sense of presence feels muted on Zoom. Of course Zoom is better than isolation, but is still not the same as connection. We can connect when our eyes are focused and present, but I have been in too many distant conversations, where it is apparent that we are all there and not there simultaneously. Even when we pay attention, our attention seems muted. We can see but not feel. Virtual communication is better than no connection at all, but it is not babies alone who cannot thrive without touch.
Admittedly I have loved the absence of distraction, the time to get lost in a project. I has been many years since I fell prey to teenage boredom. More likely there are more things to explore and do than there is time available. Is that because I am an introvert? Possibly, although I sometimes think our world has taken this whole introvert/extrovert thing to an extreme, perhaps even an extreme of extroversion — where the big event, the casual gathering, the escaping from solitude and in a sense, even close personal connection, is the norm. What if all this has left us less resilient, less connected. What happens when all the distractions of busyness are taken away?
Well, here we are finding our way through. I can’t say that I have done particularly well. I was good at slowing down, at creating small routines. I thought I was slowly mastering letting go of a sense of obligation, that my worth in the world depended on what I accomplished in the world. Now I see that I was only taking baby steps. All this fell apart. I would have a day or days of joyful work and busyness and then I would have a day or days where I could barely drag myself off the sofa. If I didn’t have a dog, or need to drink and/or eat occasionally, I might not have managed at all. I don’t see the point in pretending that everything is happy/busy/full all the time. Our humanity is in our vulnerability. Increasingly, it seems to me that to deny this, to hide it, sets a dangerous precedent, for individuals, for societies.
Anyway I am here. I am actually better. I am slowly returning to a sense of routine, at least a minimum of acceptable behavior. Acceptable to me, at any rate. Those last couple of days of mindless televised anaesthesia seem to have helped me face another one of those inner demons, those voices determined to keep us down, the ones we run from and hide behind a veneer of business. I cannot be the only person who does this.
Which brings me back to the beginning of this post. I miss small social gatherings. But I also realize that I am happy in this little space called home, that something about me has always seen and yearned for home as a sanctuary. Although I don’t wish to hide in my sanctuary, I also do not want a life of distraction.
I am sure I will spend another day on the sofa. I am also sure that in the greater scheme of things it does not matter if I do or not. Perhaps it would be bad if I stayed there for days, or weeks, but that is not about to happen. In the meantime, I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and although I claim that this space, my home is my sanctuary, the truth is that I carry that with me wherever I go. If I learn anything, perhaps it should be that I should be far more careful about who and what I allow to impinge on that space.
