back in my body

i'm feeling stagnant among other things

I left the city before the snowstorm, almost three weeks spent staring at the blue walls of my childhood bedroom, three weeks for the snow to accumulate and transition from pillowy and white to a murky, grainy grey. I spent the morning walking through my neighborhood, grey slush everywhere. The sky itself was tinged in grey, not a glimpse of the sun peeking through the clouds, just overcast, blankness.

As soon as I returned to DC, the dreariness of winter hit me like a truck. When I was in NJ, constantly spending time with my family or curled in my bed with a book, winter felt cozy and warm—the red cable knit sweater I’ve been living in since Christmas, the fireplace glowing with dying embers, homemade cookies—I felt like I was in my own world, time beat at a steady pace meant just for me. It snowed a little bit while I was home, an unblemished layer of white powder dusting the treetops, casting a whimsical haze over the trees and hills I grew up in. I long for it in my mind when I take my walks through the greyish sludge covering the sidewalks near my apartment.

Maybe it’s the blankness around me, the silence on my street, but the grey seems to come from within me, a manifestation of my mood, spreading across lawns and sidewalks and constantly reminding me how lonely I feel. Am I homesick, I asked myself as I shook mud and water off of my boots, or do I miss the uncomplicated life that exists as a memory within the walls of that house? Maybe I forgot to take my meds, I’ll pull that out again as a default reaction when my thoughts begin to spiral. My life feels stagnant again, on pause while everyone else moves at full speed, so I crave the simple comforts of home.

I spent the afternoon in a coffee shop, headphones in but music playing at a near whisper, listening to the buzz of conversations around me. Someone had a conference coming up for their marketing job. The girl sitting behind me might break up with her girlfriend. I sat with a blank document opened before me, words in my mind but unable to escape onto the page. Time was moving quickly for them, colors and sounds blending to create an effervescent whirl of life while I sat silently, solitary, trapped in shades of grey.

from one of my recent walks (a rare blue sky)

What is happening to me? Everything’s bleak, like the brightness and color were too big to fit in my suitcase so I had to leave them behind, on top of the twin-sized bed covered in stuffed animals. I told myself that I was pulling it together this year, going to yoga classes, eating more vegetables, and writing about the happy parts of my life, but I still feel the profound emptiness. One of the girls sitting near me seemed so put together—green Goyard tote, trench coat, taking notes on her iPad— a part of me sees that as everything I’m not regardless of if I even want that. The absurdity of that thought process hits me almost as quickly as the thought escaped, I don’t know this girl, I’ve created a life for her and I’m projecting my insecurities onto her, I’m almost embarrassed.

Nothing feels real right now, maybe it’s the utter stillness of the world outside, or at least how the world looks when I’m glancing at it through my fingers, afraid to see what’s really out there. I’m looking out of the sliding glass doors in my bedroom and only seeing pure darkness.

I know I can’t be the only one who feels bleak right now. There seems to be a grey cloud hanging over Washington DC right now. It’s growing stormier and eerier by the moment and I’m scared for when it finally opens up and pours down. It’s a collective sadness, a fear for what is to come, and I’m in fight or flight mode. This weekend I’m going away, staying in a cabin with my boyfriend and friends to escape the city for a bit, knowing things will be different when we return to the city. Last year we took this trip in February, it was snowy and cold, I was anxious to be there, and when I got home my dog died, so there’s a part of my brain that fears something equally as devastating to be waiting for me when I get home this time.

It’s funny, I told myself that I would bring a more positive outlook to 2025, and I’m trying, I’m doing more yoga and I’ve been actively participating in Dry January, but somehow my writing has held an element of sadness that I’m unable to bypass. After the holidays, I wanted to take a break from publishing my writing, I thought I would come back fresh-faced, with a list of things I wanted to write about and think-pieces spilling out of me. I channeled everything into my journal— the feelings, concerns, ideas— because I knew I couldn’t go a few weeks without writing anything. Maybe I’m not built for the casual, put-together, plan-everything-out-and-do-it, conceal-feelings-for-the-sake-of-writing-something-trendy lifestyle. I scrapped 2 essays in the last 2 weeks, and it felt awful in those moments, like all of a sudden I wasn’t the writer I thought I was, I wasn’t capable of pushing through and just writing.

I look back on it though and I feel proud of myself. I loved the topics I was writing about, who knows, I still might pull them out of the drafts someday, but they’re not authentic to the writer I am in the present, they felt as if they were written by someone trying to play the part of Sarah: Pretty Good Writer and Definitely Sure of Herself. For the first time, I felt like I was suffocating while I was writing, everything I wanted to say was stuck, no matter how many times I went back to try to revise or revisit the subject, I couldn’t find the natural direction, even with the map directly in from of me.

Today I woke up and felt refreshed, even though I slept poorly last night, Paul half on top of me, something feels aligned. I went outside for a little bit, walking laps around the neighborhood and somehow the greyness of the sky, the blank nothingness of the snow against the fronts of houses looked different. I felt like I was finally back in my body, no longer looking down on myself, watching the world. The color returned to my cheeks and I could have sworn I saw a glimpse of blue in the sky.

weekly favorites

• Over the last few weeks, I read quite a few books and one of my favorites was Talking at Night by Claire Daverley. I’m currently reading Orbital by Samantha Harvey and I love it so far!

• I’m doing Dry January and I’ve been loving the Kin Bloom. Also I just really like how I feel without any alcohol.

• I’ve been listening to this playlist:

• olivia kozlevcar
  and I have been doing Fortnite double dates with our boyfriends (we just sit in the living room and play together and it’s been such a fun bonding activity)

• I caved and bought a new pair of Aerie leggings (the flare ones, typically referred to as yoga pants)

• Paul and I have been going on really long and peaceful walks and that’s just been such a nice time to unwind together.

• The Traitors US has been my current guilty pleasure, something about watching all of these reality stars point fingers at each other and act insane in a gorgeous castle fills me with peace.

  

  another favorite was this gallery wall at julia’s birthday brunch

thank you for sticking around, thank you for being patient with me, and thank you for finding something within my words. (and thank you for almost 8,000 subscribers)

with love,

sarah