I’ve been up since 5:45am. It’s snowing outside. It’s dead silent in my house, my street, my whole neighborhood. I have a piping hot mug of peach green tea. I’m cozied up in my big fluffy robe. Everything is perfectly still; this is my happy place.
I tried to write a post last night about what I am thankful for this year but it wasn’t coming out right. I’m thankful for so many things, the standards really – my husband, our home, our cat, my job, friends, family, my health, all of the good fortune and good luck that has seem to come our way. But what I am really thankful for this year is the calm, the stillness.
I often feel self conscious about being a homebody, a person who loves peace and quiet. For a long time I thought it prevented me from doing things but it doesn’t; I simply don’t enjoy those things. I prefer quiet conversations over tea, reading a good book, a long drive with someone I love, yoga, writing in my journal.
Finding my place in this world, my quiet place, has been a lifelong search. I took an active journey of self-care this year, reaching out for help both professionally and from my support system. It’s not easy to talk about here. Which is a big reason for the radio silence as of late. But if I’m being true to myself I will admit that I’ve enjoyed the silence. It slows down my thoughts and helps me focus on the things that deserve my attention. There is so much busy-ness to life that I honestly feel swallowed up by it most of the time. So much that is pointless and superficial and excessive and expendable in this world; constant streams of information, consumerism, making life picture perfect (literally). I need quiet time to reflect and to give my thanks but it’s hard to find that time every day. Even in moments where I have downtime – on my commute, making dinner, during my before-bed rituals – I’m not actively reflecting. My mind is churning over my to-do lists, and dwelling on all the things I have to do or didn’t get to do. It’s really hard staying in the present because of that. But discovering my natural inclination and need for silence has made all the difference.
So what I’m thankful for the most this year is the silence I’ve been able to recognize and accept as required, to slow myself down, permission to stop worrying about what’s next, to take stock of the things that truly matter and deserve my undivided attention, to serve as a place to listen to my needs. I hope that whatever brings you joy and satisfaction has been abundant this year, and that there is much more to come.