There’s a quote attributed to Virgina Woolf that I adore, especially when my introverted self needs time to recharge, which occurs fairly frequently:

“In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.”

The older I become, the more I realize I need punctuated periods of silence – the elusive ‘passionate attention’ Virginia romanticizes. I need a regular dose of such an elixir – nearly as much as other life-giving necessities like food and water.  That sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?  But I’m not taking it back.

I am privileged and I know it.  I’m less a part of the ‘sandwich generation’ than ever before with a daughter who’s now an adult and parents – on both sides – who’ve all passed.  Those years when life was a blur with the double dose of child rearing coupled with elder care? Intense.  I don’t think we’re supposed to recall the compounding, the compression.  We just move through it.

So maybe the signs were there, all along, even without Virginia’s nudge. The reminders to slow down, to embrace life in progress?  I’m self-aware enough to do a status check and my “signs” include headaches and a colossal, cranky, run-for-your-lives short fuse.  I also know the antidotes, but the overused ‘self-care’ messages grow tiresome…perpetually present as they run headlong into metaphysical impossibilities.  Brick walls known as time and energy constraints. 

Still, I’m in the solitude and renewal fan club because I DO value the opportunity to attend to ‘the details around us’.  But quietness in and of itself won’t do the trick for me. I must put a weensy amount of prep in, to clear the runway, otherwise I will fixate on any needling unfinished bits in view or top of mind.  I cannot UN-see or UN-think them.

I need my quiet time surroundings to be picturesque, if possible, and free from triggers that distract, like dirty dishes, unfolded laundry, stacks of paperwork.  Compulsive?  Yeah.  My solitude needs a side order of ambiance and I think that’s where my design conundrums come from. 

I’m quirky, but I have company.  A dear design-oriented friend shares my quirks – our mutual love of nesting, home décor and the need to re-boot ourselves, but with conditions.  We bond over our refueling needs, those moments of sought-after solitude but only if we’ve set the stage first, with creature comforts, calming climate inducers.  They’re necessities – the warmth and softness that come from intentional lighting, a flame – whether candle or fireplace. Designers says it’s about evoking a mood and I’m okay with that but for me it’s a need for an inanimate hug.  Yep.  From a room.

The conclusion? You’ve read this far, no doubt thinking “Geez, I hope she has a point here…”  Honestly, I’m not sure.  I suppose I’m in mulling mode because I want to embrace the opportunities solitude can provide, but I also need to come to terms with my self-imposed conditions.  That, and it’s nesting season – pumpkin spice this-and-that, fall foliage and all. Inside we go – at least some of us – as autumn turns to winter in the Midwest.

The best reminder is right in front of me, the pic of Sweet Sadie nestled with her precious bunny.  The best lessons come from pets and children, like this one: I need soothing elements, too, to prompt restoration. A warm beverage as the days cool down, my favorite slippers, something to read – but only if I want to.  I might just sit in silence, allowing the whole of me to soak up whatever percolates through my head and heart.  That’s good enough and maybe that’s where I reload my ‘passionate attention’ to the things and people who matter most to me. 

Xo,

Vicki ❤