Have you ever woken up from sleep and refused to leave bed? Of course you have. But have you refused to acknowledge that the night is over, that your rest hour is over? Maybe that too.
To me, it means I can’t hide anymore.
There’s no rush to wake up, you know that, but it’s 6 am and you’re already wide awake. There is a dread looming right outside the blanket.
Your workout playlist is already humming in your head. (You need to change that, you’re starting to not like the songs)
Your plant is dying. You were advised to add some specific fertilizer last week. It took you 6 days to find, order and get it. Not because it was tough but because maybe you’re just lazy. That’s what he always said. “I’m lazy”. But I am not, I procrastinated and this is a new thing. This is not my normal. Is now. Or is it not even procrastination? You don’t do things because you’re worried what can of worms that will open. You’re worried to find out that you killed it. You’re somehow responsible for the death of this very meaningful plant. You wonder what different compositions of fertilizers do. (You should look that up, your plant advisor won’t live forever to tell you everything. Look that up.) You should call and talk to him more often. Think about new things to say. Write them down. Live those alive not those who’ve left.
You have work to take care of. You have work calls to make that might take hours and your “sanity”. You’re shitscared of the outcome. You’re scared you’ll lose “it” as if you have anything left to lose. You need major handholding in life. But do you acknowledge that? I do, only under my blanket.
You have tax files to upload. And I haven’t done any of it.
You have to figure out why the internet isn’t working alright. But I don’t look that up either.
You have leftover work from the Friday to wrap up and emails to send.
And you don’t do those and you stay still exactly where you are and blame it on procrastination. But it’s not though.
You’re unable to move. There’s a crippling feeling that something is wrong. You miss your mother, worry about her health, annoyed that she doesn’t tell you major things. Or minor. You know she will go imperceptibly one day and you won’t even know. You let that go a long long time ago when you were a teenager and learned to self soothe with books, after a night out with friends and acting jubilant. You knew that on that marble floor with that green blanket, if you could enter the book deep enough, you won’t need to ask or even know where your mother is, how she’s doing and when she’ll be back from the ICU. In the world outside the blanket, no one really cared about what you thought or how you were feeling or what you had to say anyway. Twenty years later it is still the same.
You miss your son and you don’t know how to deal with a child. You feel helpless. You look at his baby photos sometimes.
But right now you just crave for simpler times and scrutinize the tiniest past details of your life. Under that blanket. You gotta call his dad and ask to see your son.
You ordered new coffee pods. You gotta taste the flavors.
You have produce in the fridge, you must cook them today.
There are murals your cousin would love, make a plan to show them to him.
There’s a lunch tomorrow you have to cook for and an event you need to plan.
There is a paralyzing fear that it’s setting in again. That gloom. There is a fear something will happen. There is fear of falling for someone. So you never talk nicely to anyone anymore. There is fear in telling those people so you don’t talk to them at all. There’s a fear of loneliness when you miss those people. There’s loneliness alright whether you acknowledge it or not.
But has it ever been that you acknowledge different things inside your blanket? Are you more honest with yourself there? How much more honest can I be really? This honesty bug has cost me way too much already.
I was lonely before too, but rarely alone. Living in hyper vigilance. The concerns came, a few congratulations came, mostly overwhelming well wishes (some real some not so much but that’s fine) came with the change. And then they all went home. I too am home and I am still inside my blanket.
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