Quiet Spaces

I feel as though, for the first time in weeks, I have a chance to breathe. My life has been nothing short of a complete and total whirlwind since October: sick, doctor's appointments, sick, apartment searching, sick, packing up the apartment, more sick, moving day, unpacking, trying desperately to get the house in order, putting up the tree, finishing the holiday shopping, 18 inches of snow, a week-long visit from the in-laws at Christmas, a visit from my mom and stepdad right after the New Year. And, in the middle of all this, no driving.

And now. . . some quiet. A little, anyway. I sit for my social work licensure exam on the 16th, so I've been putting away many hours with the books, and I have to work a couple Saturdays this month. Still, I've found time to read a novel or two, to pick up some cross-stitching, and to catch up on some movie watching. The fact that I have my own time again, in a house that is in order, feels like such a gift. The introvert in me is so pleased to have some down time to recharge.

And, amazingly, I have been feeling quite well for the last month or so. I still get a little dizzy from time to time, but it's been at least six weeks since I've been bound to the couch. It's hard to know if this is because my symptoms are in remission or because my new diet--no alcohol, no caffeine, and low-salt--has made a difference. Only time will tell, but I've been so grateful to feel like myself again.

All of this--the downtime after the hustle and bustle of the move and the holidays, the recovery from the initial shock and worries of my Meniere's diagnosis, the days of good health and energy, the removal of caffeine from my diet--have given the New Year a new feeling this time around.

I've given up my morning cup of coffee, a cup which I loved with a fierce intensity, and have replaced it with herbal and decaf teas. Whether it's the lack of caffeine or my general associations with tea, my morning beverage, strangely enough, feels different, as though I'm nourishing myself in a moment of quiet rather than feeding my body its morning drug of choice. Though I sometimes desperately miss driving, and hope to start again in February, stepping out from behind the wheel has also forced me to give up control, to put aside my need to get exactly where I want to be when I want to be there, and to--quite simply--learn how to wait. Our new place--comfortable and cozy, in a lovely and quiet neighborhood, void of screaming neighbors or trash on the sidewalk--has given me a new feeling of calm. After months of chaos, I'm relishing this time of wellness and quiet in a way I haven't in a very long time.

For years, I've been working on slowing down, on finding the quiet spaces in my life, on focusing more on the present and less on my worries and my "to do" list. It is, no doubt, something that I will work on for a lifetime. Each year, though, I hope to grow a little. So far this year, I think I've already covered some ground.