Post-Dystopia silence

Now that I have things back to sooth my soul, I have to wonder whether I‘m actually soothing it or simply numbing myself.

„No really“, I tell my witch, as I empty another glass bottle over the kitchen sink. „I‘d like to feel things again. Like, anything. And also, I got all these recipes wrong.“ And I search the kitchen for her silhouette, hopefully hiding somewhere in the corner. „I need you“, I whisper, feeling embarrassed as hell and facing spider webs I never ever remove.

I could just be happy that I am not leaking anymore, but I am also sure that definitely something drowned. Although I don‘t really want to complain. I am busy with things I love. My whole weeks are filled with appointments I had been looking forward to for two very dark and empty years, and it even sometimes makes me forget the war so close to me, tearing apart the world a huge part of me came from. This sounds great, right?

It is great, but ever since I reached this great state of things that I have been missing for so long, I lack the ability to follow one train of thoughts and am constantly missing five of them, while only catching a blurry glimpse of each at most. Most of the time, while I am actually on a real train, or running for one, because, as I said, I am allowed and even obligated to leave the house again.

…And sometimes, I even catch myself saying things like: „Another lockdown would really make me relax.“ And this is where my unicorn gets scared, and wants to check me for my huge witching mark on my belly, to make sure I am actually me.
Well, nice try. I am never sure I am actually me…

When my old life collapsed, I was so desperate and furious, but now I see that I actually got some good things out of it. I actually learned a lot about myself. Important things, like relaxing alone in my room while listening to music, and just stopping thoughts of tomorrow. Sounds kind a basic? Yea, well, I had to learn that when in 2020 I had nothing else to do. I also think that I mentally got to very interesting places, when I was just alone with my thoughts and my writing, and my blog came to be. And my plan to write my novel, and to write with the passion of my writing being the only thing that mattered, because everything that had mattered before was not available anymore. I was writing to feel myself and to see a point in living! Having been creative all my life, I still had never felt a magic like that!

I cannot go there mentally, at the moment.

This is sad, but especially when I dare to look back at my life before the pandemic.
I had never been in my room alone, listening to music and just not thinking about tomorrow. Had I had to be at home, I was working on something, so mostly studying.
When I was 18, I stopped playing the violin.
When I was 20, I stopped singing, even for myself.
I could not get myself to stop writing, but I promised myself to never again tell anyone.
I did not want to fail something I loved so much.
I did not want to be this sad, curvy girl that sang and played the violin and wrote, but kind of never really got somewhere. Back then I had people in my life who would by now ask me why I wasn‘t published yet, and I needed to avoid that question.
So, I became quiet.
And it wasn‘t until I was locked up with myself that I woke up again. But it did not just wake up my need for creativity. It did not just make me sing, and fiddle, and compose, and write.
It also woke up the rest of me, and at times, this rest of me is hard to deal with.
So, being quiet was easier.
But definitely not better, and nothing I ever want to be again.
I am not quiet! I sing impulsively when feeling relaxed, and I stomp in my boots and wear my corsets while writing my witching tales!

But, since being quiet has proven very handy, I fall back into that state of things, as soon as I have to do things. I do not choose this, it just happens on its own, and I do not yet know how to stop this, but I will try to find out.

I have to be able to feel myself and get to this mental state I discovered, even if I also have to deal with the world.

„And yes“, I continue complaining to my witch in a very whining voice. „I really thought that almost a liter of juice would be a good idea to feel refreshed, and now my stomach won‘t talk to me anymore and I can‘t decide if and what to eat.“
And there, she comes around the corner, wearing a white dress with ruffles and corset which I will have to steal from her very soon.