Winter makes me feel claustrophobic
It’s 1am and I am full of energy. Visions of my walls closing in on me keep me up. Awake I lay in bed in my small room in my small apartment with too many things scattered around. With each short and stifled breath, my room gets tighter.
Winter’s dawn braces me for nights where I'm locked in these four walls, too cold outside to take a walk, rain and snow and gray skies dissuading me from exploring. I crave an escape, I need a plan. Solemnly I vow to spend as much time as I can outside of my room. To ease my anxiety, I decorate a hypothetical countryside estate in my mind. High ceilings, wood floors, and art adorned walls. A place where everything has its spot and there’s room for even more. With each room I garnish, my thoughts quiet and I finally doze off.
My alarm goes off at 8am and I wake with the goal of getting out. I make a cup of tea and head to the living room with my journal. As I begin to write, I’m confronted by the hammering of construction. The sharp clanking of metal on metal mocks my desire to get out. Retreating to my room, I'm back to the place I was in last night. In my small corner of the world, I long for a place so big I lose myself.
Resuming my journal entry, it becomes clear to me that my lack of square footage isn’t the main source of my claustrophobia. Rather than feeling physically confined by my walls, I’m actually confined by current reality. Stagnation manifests as claustrophobia.
How would I describe my current reality? Comfortable, maybe. Routine. Contemplatively, I think maybe I should reframe “routine” and instead look at it with reverence. Momentarily I tell myself I don't need anything else, I can escape the mundane with adventures told in books and movies. My world feels bigger this way, and I'm perfectly, comfortably fine.
Ultimately, I concede that feeling claustrophobic at 1am doesn’t exactly qualify as being “perfectly fine”.
In an effort to get out of my head, I forced myself to get out of the apartment that week. I visited restaurants and coffee shops and friends. I looked at strangers and wondered what their story was. Do they worry about wasting the good years? What keeps them up at night? Do they rise and fall all in day's work? Slowly I don’t feel as insular as I once did. My world expands by an inch.
Looking inward, I accept that it’s human nature to want more, that feeling stuck or small is all a part of the human condition. Thinking of where I wanted to be at the end of 2022 can be a difficult reality to face. I may not have climbed mountains this year, but if I’m honest with myself, I know that the peak will never come. I’ll always want more, but that’s okay. The fact that I'm constantly seeking is a testament to my humanity, curiosity, and the fulfillment the journey brings. People are rewarded with dopamine when we adopt a lust for life, when we seek something greater and when we feel like we are at life's fringes. The driving force of this sensation is not the achievement of a new life, but rather the hope and belief of what more life can be.
With love,
Emily