After a weekend of running around the city and having the time of my life doing it, it's always an important moment to come back to my little studio apartment, where I live alone, and take a moment to be alone. I have a love/hate relationship with that moment, though it is, perhaps, the most important moment of the week.
It's easy to become wrapped up in the happenings of the week and what we do to fill our days on the weekend. I over-commit usually and spend most of my time running from this place to that place. I'm okay with that honestly. But the moment I get home, stare at my empty apartment and allow everything to settle, I can see clearly again for the next step, which in this case is the week ahead of me. There's such a power in that silence and that emptiness. It's at once calming and unnerving.
The cloud of text message conversations, phone calls, chats, emails and lists on a calendar all settle to the bottom of the apartment and all I see is what's left dangling above. Those things don't seem to change from week to week, at least they haven't in a while.
But I think what's been the most unnerving over the past month is that nothing has settled. There's been no clarity. Nothing has landed and everything is still floating out in the void that happens to be my headspace.
I'm not sure what to do about this and I don't know that anyone else will have the answer either. But it's just a fact of life right now. Just writing about it has given me the upper hand. It's no longer in control because I had the audacity to write about something honest in public. There's a lot more of that to come this year and in that, I am allowing myself to be powerful.
Goodnight, dear void. It's been a good one. But tomorrow, I'm going to make you go away for good.