This is one of those times when having a blog makes me feel a little bit self conscious. Because life right now? Is kind of a snore. But it is a delicious snore, I promise, and it is very much by design.
You see July was a huge month for me. I got back on the list making bandwagon set out to acheive a million things, and ended up doing quite a few. While I was making that list last month I sort of forgot that there would be other things going on besides just Getting Stuff Done. I do that sometimes, some call it having unrealistic expectations, I call it hoping for the best! But there were definitely other things going on: things like happy hours, wine nights, birthday parties, baby showers, time with family, small dinners at home — Wonderful things! But still things, you know? Things that take time. And energy.
And also while I was making that list last month I sort of forgot this one thing about myself, and it is the thing that I am perpetually forgetting when someone mentions cocktails, or a night out, or a party, or a new restaurant that we should try, or a weekend trip, or a good show at one of my favorite bars — I Love To Be Alone. I am a pretty outgoing person, I’m very much on the go by choice, so much so that I have to sometimes have to remind Garrett that I like being alone and he just gives me that raised eyebrow look that says you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. But it’s true. I love it. I absolutely love being alone.
And sometimes I feel like I should whisper that. Like it’s a character flaw.
But the truth is, carving out alone time for myself has become harder and harder over the past few years. I’ve met wonderful people, I’ve managed to find a partner who makes me swoon, I’ve moved in with him, my family is all finally all relatively close together — there is so much abundance! But sometimes amidst all that abundance I forget to carve out the time for my own recharging. It’s this fatal flaw that I have and I want to be better about it. This week I have done a few things in pursuit of that recharge.
The other night when Garrett was working late I had a 4 hour stretch of luxurious time to myself. I beer-braised a chicken, roasted some vegetables, I organized my kitchen, wrote in my journal, I did some laundry, I blasted the stereo, I made a pillow fort on my couch and watched Friday Night Lights. I spent a good chunk of time just being, not trying to do something, produce something, read something on the internet, respond to something, email someone, call someone — none of it. I just did exactly what I felt like. I collapsed into my bed later that night refreshed and ready to take on the week.
Yesterday I took the day off of work for absolutely no reason. A Mental Health Day, I told my boss — and that’s just what it was. I slept in. Ate a leisurely breakfast. Opened all the windows and doors in my house and drank coffee with a Delta Breeze blowing through the house that felt way more autumn than summer. I went to Target. I went to the library. I napped. I read. I didn’t take the day off for any particular reason exept to do exactly what I felt like when I felt like it.
And although these things were necessary and rejuvinating and decadent — I fully acknowledge that they aren’t super blog-worthy. I didn’t spend the last week at a conference, meeting people I felt like I already knew. I wasn’t having life changing experiences over fancy meals or breathtaking views. I wasn’t taking a trip, I wasn’t crossing things off my Life List. I wasn’t taking gorgeous photographs of even more gorgeous writers. I was just here. Being myself. Being quiet. Honoring a part of me that doesn’t get to the front of the line that often. And honestly it was as rejuvenating as if I had been on the trip of a lifetime. With less unpacking! And I want more of that feeling. And I think this August, I’m going to make that happen.