Why home is even more important when we’re not feeling ourselves
I’m back on the sofa, my laptop sighing and concerningly warm on my thighs. I’ve just adjusted my dressing gown so that it’s not directly on top and getting too cosy – I think that’s helped.
After a roast dinner at the pub, I’m so ready for an early night. I’m slowly making my way through The Northern Clemency by Philip Hensher at the moment. It’s chunky and feels like a nice, bigger book to read at this time of year – when there is, in theory, a little more time to get into something more substantial. It’s set in Crookes in the 70s, and the pace is like the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. It also includes one brilliant, jaw-dropping scene involving a secret pet snake. I’d recommend it for something gentle and well-observed to wallow in through winter evenings under a blanket.
Just now, I felt like I needed to just sit quietly for a minute and let the dust settle because this week has been a lot. I needed to turn off I’m A Celebrity (I would really like to do the cyclone challenge one day, if someone can make that happen I’d be very grateful). I needed to put my phone down and not reach for it out of habit, resist the urge to make another peppermint tea, or use the remaining hours of my weekend reading, cleaning, washing clothes, or doing something else ‘productive’. Usually, I’m hopping from one task to the next, whizzing around the flat like a pinball or letting my mind whirr. ‘I need to message my friend about their kitchen reno, I need to do a wash load, find a Christmas present for my brother, pack my suitcase for London, find somewhere to properly store my bike, call Octopus Energy, register at the doctors…’
The last week or two have been a real mix. I’ve been feeling festive and happy that December is here – I can’t remember ever feeling this Christmassy this early. There have been Christmas crafts with friends at mine, and a lot of time spent listening to a Christmas playlist on Spotify – in the shower, at my desk, washing up, getting dressed. I’ve been Christmas shopping, wrapping presents, writing Christmas cards and covering them with stickers. There’s been plenty of mulled wine, mince pies and mid-afternoon Baileys because there’s no drink I love more.
I’m also getting close to the end of work, and preparing for a big change to my daily routine as I go freelance. Apprehension, excitement, and questions of how to make it all work are swimming around a lot in my mind. Like anyone this time of year, so ready to switch off and have a break for Christmas, I feel like I’m just trying to get through the days, all while trying to remember to buy washing-up sponges and bin bags. And it feels like winter has officially started, which has left me feeling less energetic. We have had some seriously wet and cold weather in Sheffield and the general lack of sunlight is a bit gross. When you walk into the living room at 9am and it feels like the nighttime.. Non merci. Two more weeks until the days get longer again.
On Tuesday morning I woke up feeling drained by my period and modern day life. I headed into the kitchen and remembered I had no food for breakfast. The milk had gone off, no bagels, no oats, and I was running perilously low on coffee pods. Before heading out to the Sainsbury’s Local I thought I’d have some Floradix liquid iron to help with the tiredness, as the label says to take it thirty minutes before morning and evening meals. Perfect. I shook it, and brown, sticky, expensive Floradix sloshed all over the floor and the washing machine, and started dripping its way down the front of the cabinets like rain on a grubby window. I wiped the floor with a tea towel and my foot, getting the worst of it off, and thought ‘I’ll deal with you later.’ Nothing like the ‘shake the bottle without the lid on’ trick to get you ready for the day.
It was one of those weeks, with carbon monoxide alarms going off (false alarm) and generally feeling like you’re chasing your tail. Nothing a big food shop, a run, a couple of nights in doing nothing and a coffee with friends can’t fix. On the topic of feeling tiredness, here’s my favourite meme of the week (thanks, Charis):
When we’re feeling a bit tiiired actually, this is when we really need our homes to feel clean, organised and safe. Nothing fancy, but fresh sheets on the bed, the dishes put away and counters wiped. Cosy lamps and blankets and knowing where your keys are. Opening the windows to let some fresh air in. We need our homes to be somewhere to retreat to, to shelter from the cold and to feel our feelings, whether they’re fuzzy and festive, spaced out and dazed, or out of sorts and unhappy. Ending on a quote because Katherine May says it better.
‘If happiness is a skill, then sadness is, too. Perhaps through all those years at school, or perhaps through other terrors, we are taught to ignore sadness, to stuff it down into our satchels and pretend it isn’t there. As adults, we often have to learn to hear the clarity of its call. That is wintering. It is the active acceptance of sadness. It is the practice of allowing ourselves to feel it as a need. It is the courage to stare down the worst parts of our experience and to commit to healing them the best we can. Wintering is a moment of intuition, our true needs felt keenly as a knife.’
Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times