I took a nap today…
I know – big whoop. But I feel as though there are people who can or like to nap during the day, and there are those who do not.
I am almost always the latter.
I have led most of my life by the motto of – “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” – but regardless, I’m just not sure if napping is a McGuire capability. In the rare occurrences I have tried to gift myself some restful midday moments – they almost never amount to actual shut eye with dreams and all.
I’ve started to notice a pattern… It’s an occurrence that used to worry me, but I think maybe I’m starting to crack the code. This weird thing happens, every time I arrive back to what I will forever call my home (regardless of where I currently pay rent)…
My mom always used to use this phrase growing up – “I feel like a wet washcloth.” She says she learned it from her mother, and now here it is being passed down to me. That being said, I’ll never forget the first time in my adult life, away from my foundation, where I told a friend I felt like a wet washcloth. Her eyes widened – “you WHAT?!”.
It was in that moment I realized I’d never really heard anyone else use this phrase throughout my life… I laughed.
I want you to picture a washcloth, fresh out the dryer. It’s sometimes warm, almost always fluffy, and has the teeniest bit of structure to it. When you fold it, all of the layers seem to stand their tallest, separating themselves from one another.
Now I want you to picture what happens when you place that dry, fluffy washcloth underneath a running faucet…
It immediately grows heavy. It’s weighted down and limp.
A wet washcloth.
So, do you get it now?
Those days when you’re just so tired and feel as though there’s a magnetic pull dragging you down. Energy levels low and motivation, nonexistent.
That’s what it means to feel like a wet washcloth…
So, what was the purpose behind that short dissertation?
Well, it seems that every time I get out of the car from the airport and enter back into the world that created me – I begin to feel like a wet washcloth… Motivation is low, eyelids are heavy, my limbs are weights, and the feeling truly hits me over the head with a 2×4. I am entirely overcome with this sense of lethargy. I don’t feel possessed to fall asleep or anything – but I simply just want to do nothing.
Or rather, I want to sit outside surrounded by a palette of green, and I want to listen to the world around me – which almost always is silent with hints of chirping birds and a choir of crickets…
I used to worry when I’d start to feel this way. Why was home doing this to me? I felt fine all day before arriving. I had things on the to do list.
And then, it hit me.
This lethargy? This “lack of motivation”?
It was actually this magical thing called relaxation…
Crazy, I know.
But it all started to make sense – moving around and living in places foreign to my beginnings is one of my life purposes, I’m convinced. I love it with almost every ounce of my being and consider it to be quite fun; however, the caveat here is that while doing this, and oftentimes being by myself, there is a certain level of awareness I always have turned on. I find activities and practices that work to release stress or help my breath become lighter – but when I come home, it’s like I let it all go. I give up all of the awareness, control, whatever you want to call it.
I finally feel wholly and entirely – safe.
So, that’s it. I’m not lazy and home isn’t making me depressed.
It’s actually doing quite the opposite…
It’s a release – it’s my medicine for life, if you will.
What’s yours?
