lockdown (lite).

I’ve been sitting on this for the longest time. Perhaps half out of procrastination, half out of my lack of desire to confront my spaces. I am falling down the rabbit hole again, and this time I think the ground is hitting me harder than it once did. I was talking to someone earlier today about how I tired and tried to make the best out of the first two go arounds at lockdown, and introverted me while unwilling to complain at the thought of social distancing and isolation, is reminded that comfort, and comfortable are not always where we want to park.

I find myself struggling a little bit more today, this winter; this January, not necessarily with the things that challenge everyone during the isolation, but a struggle that comes often when I don’t pay attention to myself enough and loose myself to a space of time. The idleness that comes in being, not to become, or thrive, but to live in a standstill. The waiting that isn’t so much a waiting for what comes next, but a waiting, because you do not want to open the door, and let the light in. A waiting for the bus, to come, and leave me behind.

It is also Blue Monday today, and perhaps in the paralysis of it all, I have forgotten what is like to feel the discomfort of it all, or at least want to chase the discomfort of it all. One of the things I hate about this city, is how easy it is to grow comfortable and stay that way. I know I’ve always needed a space like this; a space I never had growing up. But like a traumatic response, I find myself struggling to let it go. Comfort has always eluded me, and now that I’ve sat within it for the longest I have ever known to. I come to the realization, that I will continue to lose myself staying still, and waiting for life to continue to pass me by. Even the easiest sparks of joy, seem paused and stuck in freeze frame. The idleness of the season. The idleness of winter.