I Am Not Hiding
I'm Hibernating
More than one person (actually four people) has recently advised me to “stop hiding.” Yes, I have withdrawn lately. Yes, I have gone weeks without leaving the farm. Yes, I have been cocooned, contemplative, and reflective. However, because it’s winter, last year was stressful (last four years really), and I now work from home, all these things seem natural. What is hibernation if not all these things? But, since all four advisors know me pretty well, I had to sit down and think about it. Am I hiding from the world?
Let me begin by saying, since 2020, I wouldn’t blame anyone for hiding from the world. The pandemic and resulting ripples of change have set many things topsy turvy. In addition, I have run out of fingers counting the number of people I know and love who have died in the last four years, including two of my closest friends.
Stir in some typical family dramas, hurtful gossip, health complications, unending election traumas, war, inflation, wildfire smoke, and mean people in general just for good measure. You know - life ingredients.
Then add that it took 19 months for me to get free from a job I no longer loved, faced re-booting a business neglected for seven years, and spent eight months without an income. No longer required to participate in social media for my job, I also jumped on cutting screens out of my life unless related to work and/or writing.
I have run out of fingers counting the number of people I know and love who have died in the last four years, including two of my closest friends.
AND (Men, just skip this sentence) — All this during menopause. Thus, me — as an out-of-control and angry tornadic GenX crone. Right, but also ruthless. So I was also actively challenging an out-of-control newspaper reporter, a misogynistic manipulative mayor, and the tyrannical president of a dysfunctional community organization… Why? Someone had to and they were just flat out ticking me off.
So, let’s establish that I certainly needed an extended vacation.
I also should note that three of my four advisors are social creatures. They like being out and about and mingling. They have trouble spending time alone. I do not. Yes, home is my safe space, but it’s also my home office, my art studio, our never-ending remodeling project, my library, my writing studio — a place where I have the adoration of two dogs, a cat, two hermit crabs, and eight hens.
My house is more organized than it has been in over a decade. Stalled projects have stirred again. I take daily walks and do yoga, and have taken up painting. I passed the screening, training, and trial period for my new job, and have already received a promotion and a raise.
I took my sweeper apart and cleaned and washed all the parts. I’ve organized the pantry, and for the first time in years, all my clean laundry is put away. The kitchen cabinets have been washed and wiped, and when everyone freaked about the recent winter storm, I happily filled the crockpot with spiked hot chocolate, cozied up with the critters, and binge-watched Criminal Minds.
Behind the scenes, my volunteer commitments get busy this time of year, but they also can be addressed from home over the Internet. This is my first year as the contest coordinator for WV Writers, Inc., my sixth year on a regional scholarship committee, and I’m launching a new writer’s group in March.
Sure, my mental condition has been a bit lackluster. The last several years have given me a lot to process, and no time to do so. And, I know that the coming years will also present traumatic times. I am regularly grateful for this current “quiet time” in my life. I like taking mid-day naps and working in the wee hours of the morning. I know it won’t last. Days grow longer, peepers sing in the evenings, and I have dozens of paintings to sell in the coming seasons as well as two new book projects to get going.
I am regularly grateful for this current “quiet time” in my life… I know it won’t last.
Hibernation has a season. It is a condition with an expiration date included. It comes and goes. My home is my hermitage - my place where I live in seclusion from the world. Perhaps I have curled up in my cozy cave this winter to lick wounds, get re-grounded, some well-deserved rest, and spend time focusing on reflection and self-care. Is this hiding? I think not. This, truly, is hibernation, a complete immersion in the natural condition of the current season.
And just as the seasons call bears out of their caves, spring will bring renewed energy, new perspectives, implementation of lessons recently learned, and additional projects - most of which can and will happen here, at home. In my mind, that’s not so bad. I hope to hibernate like this every winter.
So, homebody or hermit? Hibernating or hiding? Isn’t this just normal farm life and wintering? Without the demands of societal influences, I run on my own circadian rhythm and have time to listen to myself and the Universe. I feel like I’m recovering, reconnecting with myself, and re-evaluating the future. I have to admit, I don’t feel like I’m hiding. But, I wouldn’t blame myself if I was. The world has gone wonky in the last few years, and so have I. If I don’t have to go anywhere right now, why would I? Besides, it’s not like no one knows where I am. I am not hiding.
I am home.