On Belonging

and lessons from the snow

The snow this week was such a gift, such a beautiful slowing down.

I’m grateful that I was able to spend a few extra days in my pjs while attending Zoom classes from the comfort of my home.

I received an email part way through the week from an instructor that read: “The snow is beautiful but I hope it disappears by tomorrow so we can proceed, as usual” — and it kind of broke my heart.

Why must we be so concerned with proceeding “as usual”? What’s wrong with a slower pace? With delaying our contributions to capitalism and instead staying cooped up in the safety and comfort of our homes for a few days? What’s wrong with rest? Or a break?

I will never not be irked by the pace of this world; it’s so unnatural, so disconnected from the gentle rhythms of the earth, of our souls. The culture of productivity and carrying on “as usual” perpetuates the pushing down of any feeling — good or bad — that may detract from being laser-focused on doing, nevermind the value in simple being.

What’s the rush?

I wrote this question in my opening letter this year and it’s something I’ve been returning to constantly throughout each day.

What’s the rush?

It would have been the perfect reply to my instructor’s email.

What’s the rush?

What can really go wrong if I arrive a couple minutes late to class? If I swoop in at the last moment because of traffic, or a couple extra minutes spend snuggling in bed with my darling? Will anyone really notice or be harmed? No, then why should I worry about it? What’s the rush?

I catch myself looking ahead to the end of this year, to the end of this program. My heart accelerates with excitement at the thought of having an income again, at the thought of filling my hours of free time with items from my playlist, with reading for fun, wedding planning, and anything other than checking off assignments from my to-do list.

I catch myself, because I don’t want time to fly. I want to be here, in the now.

More than anything, I want to hang on to every moment just a little bit longer, a little bit tighter, before it becomes a memory, a seemingly fleeting instance transformed from present into past before I have time to really soak it in.

I’m grateful that I didn’t let my anxiety win last night, that I chose to go to a social gathering with my cohort pals, and my honey by my side.

“A party? Wow! You can make up for all those years you didn’t attend any in high school.” - My mom

I’ve been feeling a lot of emotions bubbling to the surface when I think about how disconnected I’ve felt from my peers for the majority of my life.

I don’t think I ever noticed there was anything to grieve until now: until feeling what it feels like to have people ask me to be in their group for a group project; until feeling how it feels to have a peer notice my presence — or my absence; until feeling what it feels like to have my anxiety quelled instead of exacerbated by a room full of peers; until feeling how it feels to belong in this way that I’ve only ever observed from the outside.

Writing that feels really vulnerable, and I write it knowing full well that I may not keep in touch with a single person from my program once we graduate — and that’s okay. I also know that as time goes on, in this city that seems more like a town as the years go by, I won’t bow my head in hopes that they don’t see me when we inevitably cross paths out in public.

I’m grateful I got to know what it feels like, no matter if it lasts or not.

I’m currently rewatching Gossip Girl for the nth time, a few episodes into season four, and wow do I feel like Dan and Nate’s relationship is so underrated. Watching it progress thus far has honestly been so wholesome and I just have to put it out there.

I’m grateful for comfort shows, always.

I’m grateful for slow, slow weekend mornings.

I’m grateful for $9 dentist bills.

I’m so grateful for this date, this love, and this life with him.