Why is it so much easier on a Sunday to pretend like problems don’t exist? To sip tea without urgency? To smile and mean it? If one is lucky, a Sunday (and it doesn’t have to be Sunday, it can be any day really) can become a little pocket universe. At least that’s what I’ve decided. Sunday is the day I get to come back from where ever it is I go when I’m going through it.
It’s been such a chill day, and I’m anxious to get back to it. This morning my boyfriend and I went and sat in the sun at a cafe in Ridgewood that we really like. I ate a delicious sandwich and read a book and smiled at dogs and listened to music. I’ve got a lot on my plate in the next month or so, my birthday is on the 29th and that makes me anxious, but today was the first time in a while where I was able to pull the anxiety outside of myself and place it on a high shelf, where it can gather dust until I’m ready to deal with it again. At least until Sunday is over.
Honestly, it’s such a relief to be able to do that, however temporarily, after an emotionally hellish few weeks. I’m bracing myself for the return but in the meantime trying to remain present and grateful for these moments of clarity and connection and creativity that come to me sporadically, which as I type this I’m choosing to believe is exciting and not exhausting 🙃. Sometimes I feel like my depression is a living thing, a fire that careens from one side of my brain to the other so fast there’s no way to actually put it out. I can only contain it. For now, at least.
to watch