Friday, June 8, 2012


My apartment does not provide me sanctuary. It's not uncommon for me to start feeling cagey, even amongst my own creature comforts, and start pacing through the three main rooms. Part of the claustrophobic feeling is that I only have three rooms to pace. No matter where I am, I cannot have my own space to breathe.

Despite this need to be alone and gain some mental distance, sanctuary to me does not mean a quiet, isolated space. I need hustle and bustle. Like so many opposites in the world, my ideal sanctuary is a spot separate from, but next to, busy-ness and people. What good is quiet space in a sea of quiet? I prefer to achieve quiet while others continue to scurry about. As a kid, this came when I shut myself in my room with a book for hours, while hearing the rest of the household continue on its business. These days, it's finding a coffee shop where I can sit undisturbed and anonymous while watching the come and go of customers and passers-by.

I can't find sanctuary in my apartment. Even if I go in the bedroom and shut the door, the bed is the only place to relax- and sitting in bed makes me feel sluggish, no matter the time of day- and instead of the muffled hum of the household, I hear the barely dampened sounds from Patrick's computer through the thin walls.

Hopefully someday, in a house of our own (or even a larger apartment!), I'll be able to find that separate-but-close-by space that affords me mental peace. In the meantime, I'll just have to keep buying coffee.

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