Whatever gets you through the day
or me for that matter
I get most of my blues during the summer. Summers stress me out. They are exhaustingly demanding. The summertime demands my body to adjust to the exhilarated societal clock, but my body follows its own rhythm. I can’t keep up, and that makes for perfect conditions to slip and sink into summer melancholy.
Autumn is my favourite time of the year. The heat has disappeared, the relentless demands to make use of the brief spell of good weather have lifted, and October has set the trees ablaze. The grey skies descend and mush the edges of everything, and I can finally, deeply, breathe out.
Octobers and Novembers are for walking and observing, launching the tea season, and slowly preparing the December holiday magic. Crafting and reading spooky novels. Watching some very good movies. Putting on the extra blanket that adds just the right amount of weight.
At least, that is how it all normally goes.
This year, October arrived, passed into November, and they brought all that they usually do. However, they didn’t bring the usual relief.
I find myself this autumn moving through a dampened world. The colours have bled out and are barely holding on, just so I can tell apart an orange from an apple. The days pass wrapped in the dichotomy of my very loud mind and very quiet surroundings. Work is unreliable because it requires a version of me that is not able to regularly show up.
This autumn, the small joys of the season do not have the same effect.
I’ve been doing many tiny things to get myself through the days. Some days they work and some not at all.
I am very accepting of the seasons in life, as after 36 years on the planet, I know that they come and go, even if they sometimes last years. I know that, no matter how grayscale everything might look now, the most important thing is to keep moving through.
I don’t have any social media, but I spend (too much) time on YouTube. Yesterday, the algorithm suggested someone’s vlog about how they are “pulling themselves out of a massive rut,” and I found it comforting to see someone who finds themselves in the same (mind)space as me.
So I thought I’d write about what I do to get through the day, in case there’s someone else like me on the other side.
If that is you, we don’t have next week yet, but we have today. We can do today.
I am…
…saying no to anything non-essential. This one comes first, but it is actually the hardest to do. I am always volunteering in some way, and am usually involved in multiple organisations or initiatives. The service to the communities I am a part of is integral to my worldview and values. I can’t remember a time when this wasn’t the case, from my earliest school days onward. These days, my cup is so empty I have nothing left to pour out. I know it won’t be forever, it never is. For now, though, I am saying no to anything that isn’t the utmost essential to get through the day.
…moving. Walking saves lives, and I am convinced that is true without exception. I’ve started walking as much as I can every day and try to schedule longer bouts of movement on the weekends if the weather and family are up for it. Getting off one U-Bahn station earlier or getting in one later, walking to or from any appointments, or a random, useless stroll around the block whenever I have to wait for anything. You name it. Completing the stress cycle or whatever you want to call it.
…making silly little things. Isn’t this blog one of my silly little things? Although the types of (let’s face it, sometimes grim) topics I write about and the academic tone might insinuate otherwise, this is absolutely one of those.
Research says that, unlike the popular belief that doing absolutely nothing is the most beneficial in a situation like mine at the moment, doing more of what we love brings us a larger benefit. While writing for work is draining right now, writing only to play with words and share what I am learning is rewarding and recharging.
Other than words on paper and screen, I also love to craft, which I do whenever I have the chance to sit down in peace, without pressure, both alone and with my child. Crafting is generally a very silly thing, and with that, very healing in itself. I guess one can replace crafting with any art form here, as long as the perfectionism doesn’t creep in.
…scheduling something to (genuinely) look forward to. I am not going to lie, this is really difficult right now. This will also look very different for everyone. I suppose it only works if we are very honest with ourselves.
Anything literary has been my biggest interest since I was a little girl, but I have mostly denied myself the indulgence of letting it take up a large part of my life because of the relentlessness of the professional (better said: financial dread) demands when I was younger and family obligations as of late. I’ve now signed up for the first book club in my life, as I found one that reads literary fiction very close by, went to my first spoken word open mic evening (thanks for taking me V Hodder <3), and have been scheduling in-person readings to visit even if there isn’t anyone to go with. I am allowing myself to take the time to write here, and I’ve also started scribbling fiction notes again. I am making a stack of “winter reads” for the next few months, reading new and rereading favourites. All these things are something to look forward to, along with weekend plans with family, and planned crafts.
It helps a lot. I don’t know why, but taking a yearning part of yourself seriously really helps with going through the day.
…doing the (internal) work. I don’t have access to therapy right now, but I’ve collected a lot of strategies over the years about how to support myself. I’ve had an on-and-off meditation practice since my teen years, and I am making the effort to return to it now. When it is the hardest to come back, I know I need it the most. I am not there yet, but I am trying to show up for myself as much as I can. Mindfulness allows me to sit and confront the noise in my head and the discomfort in my body, and it is worthwhile investing some of my remaining willpower for that purpose.
If you need permission to have a patchy and unserious mindfulness practice, here it is. It is not bad when you don’t show up; it is just good when you do. Yay for the days that allow for that.
…being there for others. When keeping the lights on for oneself is tremendously difficult, it is much easier to do that for someone else. Once the lights are on, they stay on at least for a bit. Showing up for others is showing up for ourselves, as much as the troubled mind is not able to see that right away. I cannot show up for others right now in complex, grand ways, but the moments when I can nurture me as much as they support others.
I guess that’s that for now? I am meeting my least ambitious, least focused self since time started ticking for me. It is a dive into the unknown, an awkward encounter. I can’t not think about The Portal, a piece by Anne Helen Petersen, that has stuck with me since I read it.
At the same time, I feel more like myself than I have in a very long time. A different version of me, someone I don’t know well yet, but more me than the previous year’s me or the one before that. As if I had a coat on and now it doesn’t fit any more, so off it goes - and I have to spend some time in the cold before I can find what fits. I’ll figure it all out, but first we have to get through the day.
Some cozy Youtube:
I found this account this week and I love the calm and the perspective. People who have access to older women’s company and wisdom are so lucky.
Paola Merrill posted three days ago after a very long time and I got reminded of her dreamy landscapes and nature snippets that accompanied me through the pandemic panic. One of her older snow-covered life vignettes.
A sound well for racing thoughts.
I love the Endangered Languages Project. These short stories are a wonderful series.