I so resonate with the feeling of self-abandonment. One of the tools that just doesn’t work for me is overextension, but when I’m already depleted, somehow, in some extremely ironic sense of self-exploitation, I reach for the tool of outward connection rather than what I really need (as a true introvert). I think it comes from tenth-grade Eric sitting alone and friendless as a pariah in the lunchroom, and the vow I made to myself that I would never be alone again, and wouldn’t let anyone else suffer like that either. I’m proud of the community-building skills I’ve developed to the point of naturally being part of me, but boy does it drain me when I forget to reach inward and nourish my quiet internal community. I get so busy caring for others that I neglect myself, and ironically become internally lonesome, craving time with myself. In my urge to connect I leave my real self alone at the internal lunchroom table yet again.
I’m determined to change that this year. Every week I’m blocking out a day for sacred alone time. It’s been amazing how turning off my phone becomes a way to “hibernate” as you mentioned. Just turning on the “do not disturb” function instantly begets a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it -- and how fruitless my attempts at nesting were if a device was within reach. Maybe we can learn a thing or two about our pre-tech selves that you mentioned as retro. I don’t think it’s purely nostalgic to remember what it was like when it was absolutely normal to be absolutely unreachable for hours every day.
In order to write, I like to get a cup of tea, and keep wrapped up in bed with the curtains closed, and the door closed, and the heating on. This seems to create a cosy, safe environment for me to write, first thing in the morning... and probably provides some kind of 'womb' for me to work in. I find that this is the most productive time.
Similarly, in the evening, again, I like to sit in bed, wrapped up, to do some illustrations for my poetry collection, albeit with a comedy drama on in the background, on occasion.
This 'Sacred Space' is not an uncommon thing for Writers to have. When you have a plan of something you wish to achieve, and a daily goal in mind, then it helps to have this personal thinking area to work in. This, coupled with daily a routine, helps to make the rest of the day bearable also. Having written x number of words in the morning, satisfies the 'hunger' that Writers often have - to simply get down on paper, those musings, which otherwise clutter up the brain.
I thought this was just me! I always need to ‘nest’ myself in bed in order to do my best writing. Being flat so that all the energy can be spent on my intellectual muscles rather than physical ones.
I do find myself hibernating for long spells too, and not just because I’m in Scotland. Although the six hours of daylight help me feel cosy and introspective at home. My body makes me slow down every winter, and instead of fighting it like I did as a younger writer, I now make use of the time and space it gives. I write when I can. I have many nests. i’m currently under blankets on my oversize sofa with soft lighting in my living room. In my study, I have heat pads for the back and even for the feet so that I can feel cosy at my desk. I’m very low on energy, I make use of my attic bedroom where I feel cocooned by the lower ceiling and smaller windows. They’re all comforting in different ways.
I so resonate with the feeling of self-abandonment. One of the tools that just doesn’t work for me is overextension, but when I’m already depleted, somehow, in some extremely ironic sense of self-exploitation, I reach for the tool of outward connection rather than what I really need (as a true introvert). I think it comes from tenth-grade Eric sitting alone and friendless as a pariah in the lunchroom, and the vow I made to myself that I would never be alone again, and wouldn’t let anyone else suffer like that either. I’m proud of the community-building skills I’ve developed to the point of naturally being part of me, but boy does it drain me when I forget to reach inward and nourish my quiet internal community. I get so busy caring for others that I neglect myself, and ironically become internally lonesome, craving time with myself. In my urge to connect I leave my real self alone at the internal lunchroom table yet again.
I’m determined to change that this year. Every week I’m blocking out a day for sacred alone time. It’s been amazing how turning off my phone becomes a way to “hibernate” as you mentioned. Just turning on the “do not disturb” function instantly begets a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it -- and how fruitless my attempts at nesting were if a device was within reach. Maybe we can learn a thing or two about our pre-tech selves that you mentioned as retro. I don’t think it’s purely nostalgic to remember what it was like when it was absolutely normal to be absolutely unreachable for hours every day.
Oh, thank you so much for this, Eric. Thank you for sharing with us so generously. I really feel this with you. And here's to switching off devices!
In order to write, I like to get a cup of tea, and keep wrapped up in bed with the curtains closed, and the door closed, and the heating on. This seems to create a cosy, safe environment for me to write, first thing in the morning... and probably provides some kind of 'womb' for me to work in. I find that this is the most productive time.
Similarly, in the evening, again, I like to sit in bed, wrapped up, to do some illustrations for my poetry collection, albeit with a comedy drama on in the background, on occasion.
This 'Sacred Space' is not an uncommon thing for Writers to have. When you have a plan of something you wish to achieve, and a daily goal in mind, then it helps to have this personal thinking area to work in. This, coupled with daily a routine, helps to make the rest of the day bearable also. Having written x number of words in the morning, satisfies the 'hunger' that Writers often have - to simply get down on paper, those musings, which otherwise clutter up the brain.
Thanks so much for sharing this, Jonah. Wishing you a week of good writing space.
I thought this was just me! I always need to ‘nest’ myself in bed in order to do my best writing. Being flat so that all the energy can be spent on my intellectual muscles rather than physical ones.
I do find myself hibernating for long spells too, and not just because I’m in Scotland. Although the six hours of daylight help me feel cosy and introspective at home. My body makes me slow down every winter, and instead of fighting it like I did as a younger writer, I now make use of the time and space it gives. I write when I can. I have many nests. i’m currently under blankets on my oversize sofa with soft lighting in my living room. In my study, I have heat pads for the back and even for the feet so that I can feel cosy at my desk. I’m very low on energy, I make use of my attic bedroom where I feel cocooned by the lower ceiling and smaller windows. They’re all comforting in different ways.
Gorgeous. Here's to nesting and cocooning, Kylie 💜