sleepwalking to the finish line

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If you know something about the enneagram then you might understand what I'm getting at when I say: I'm an 8 with such a strong 9 wing that I sometimes wonder if I'm actually a 9 wing 8. But this year has shown me how present my 7 wing has always been. 

My experience of the pandemic has thankfully not been one of financial hardship or major health concerns but simply of cancelling every plan and staying home 24/7. Initially, I thought my 9 wing--the side of me that values peace, comfort, coziness, and rest--would be thrive and carry me through. In fact my "word" for 2019 was "space" as in margin as in I'd filled my days up so full that there was no room left for life and I was desperate for some breathing room. I didn't find it in 2019, but it came in spades this year--no after school club, no commute, no church events, no meetings, no trips, no where to be. 

On some occasions I've made use of unhurried mornings by rising early with the sun to run in the summer or drink coffee slowly while completing an eco-workbook in the fall. We indulged in daily walks in the spring and have made cocktail hour a thing this winter. 

And yet, all this margin hasn't filled me up, injected me with energy, or kept anxiety at bay. We're in a pandemic, after all, so there's no "peace" is really out of reach. Instead I've found myself becoming an actual hypochondriac who sleeps in til 9, and sleepwalks through each day. Running has become infrequent, fruit and veg sit in their box unwashed and uneaten, and work that once took a week now takes a month. I don't record videos for church anymore because no life comes through the screen--just dead eyes.

This state of being is new for me and although I can give myself grace because I understand we're all under stress right now and other very-together-non-anxious people I know are also feeling this way, I'm also like, why am I struggling with this? On paper, my life is fine. Why am I the weak one who can't cope? Or perhaps is just tired of just coping... 

We have all dealt with this differently and its been hard on each of us for different reasons. For me its the monotony. I knew but I didn't know know just how crucial constant new adventures and experiences (a la 7 wing) are to my mental wellbeing. Back when I was chasing space I committed to one fun Saturday a month which meant going somewhere or doing something that met my threshold of new/exciting. Once a month wasn't much but wow how it kept me going. We even managed to keep this up once lockdown restrictions eased and we could walk/hike around new and scenic places. And when I wasn't doing that, I was becoming obsessive about one hobby or topic, and then another.

But recently there's been nothing to do and I can't even come up any ideas of things to look forward to. Seeing people I know receive the vaccine gives me hope that eventually we'll come out of this and I'll have fun again one day. For now, I'm sitting here begging my living room Christmas lights to bring me joy, watching a new movie every night, and as soon as I'm done typing this, going to make puppy chow.

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