Week Two

There's something to be said for spending time alone. Time to turn the rest of the world off. Time to process and exist.

I think that, in many ways, extroverts set themselves up for failure. We thrive on being right in the middle of everything, and often don't realize that it's too much until it's too late-- and then there we are, wondering why suddenly it's our single greatest calling to eat three quesadillas while we bingewatch the Kardashians.

When I first contemplated this week's list-- greatest comforts-- I defaulted to family. Family recipes, family traditions, family vacations. And it makes sense. Families are our support, our memories, our home. But let's face it-- there are many times that families elicit more stressors than comforts. The more I thought about it, the more it became obvious that the greatest comforts are those things that help us deal with the chaos in our lives. The coping strategies. The things that keep us sane in the midst the crazy.

e.g. Quesadillas and the Kardashians. No one ever said comforts = healthy life choices.

Some of the best money I've ever spent was on a trip to New York City the spring before I turned 20. I was in the midst of a lot of the crazy-- I was grappling with committing to a new major, I had just gotten into a new relationship, and I was about to move into my first adult apartment. I was transitioning, and overwhelmed. After spending tax return money on all of the responsible things I was supposed to, I had enough leftover to do something for myself. To turn the world off.

I spent four days in New York City. I had been many times before, but this time it was just for me. Four days where I didn't have to talk to anyone or do anything or be anywhere. I walked all over the city, took the train to places I'd never explored, ordered in and watched E! for hours in my hotel room, just because I could. It was one of the most liberating things I've ever done.

But the older I get, the more difficult it is to find the space to turn the world off. With a husband and a child and a career, disappearing for four days is no longer realistic. Disappearing for four hours is hardly realistic. But that space has to exist somewhere, if only for a little while. Under the guise of "running errands" so I can walk around Target for a while, going to school on a Sunday for the sake of silence, taking the long way home on purpose.

My comforts are the ways I manage the crazy, and I am so thankful for the family (and nap times) that give me the space to enjoy them. What are your greatest comforts? Link up with Moorea Seal and the 52 Lists project-- it isn't too late to catch up! 

Happy weekend :)