Snowdrops at the beginning of September

On my deepest desires coming to the surface

I’m lying in bed with my laptop propped up on a cushion beside me. It is 06:12 a.m and only just getting light outside. My alarm isn’t for another hour, but I was woken up early by my bleed, which often comes with the inspiration to write. So, instead of panning out the story in my head, falling back asleep, waking up an hour later, groggy and with no recollection of what I wanted to write, I opened my laptop and let the words flow out of me.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what matters most to me and what kind of life I want to build. A desire that has been lingering inside me is starting to burn. It is pushing against the limits of my being, wanting to find its way out. Like a sprout thrusting through the cold, hard earth at the beginning of spring, eager to take in the fresh air and the first rays of sunshine. The beginning of this spring has been going on for a few years now. But hey, we can't all be snowdrops, can we?

At the beginning of this week, I returned to work after more than four weeks of extended summer holiday. I went camping in Sweden with Mr. Handsome, and last week, I enjoyed a couple of days in the Ardennes with a good friend. I love being away in nature. It feels like a deep exhale, slowing my body and mind right down. I feel more grounded, more connected and simply more at ease when I spend more time outdoors. I barely touch my phone, rarely feel hurried or frazzled, and my mind seems quieter as well. When I return home from vacations like these, being back in the city feels suffocating. As if there’s hardly room to breathe, to relax, to be. The endless amount of concrete and people and the constant background noise of the city make me want to scream inside.

This post-holiday mood often coincides with the transition back to work. Back to 8 hours per day behind a computer, which leaves my body and soul with an aching dullness. For a while, I’m overcome by a poignant sadness, feeling like a wild animal that is being put back into its cage. I miss being outside, moving my body, going to bed with the moon and rising with the sun. This time, the grief has reached a point where watching reels of Swedish influencers picking blueberries makes me cry.

I’ve had these feelings after vacations in nature for a few years now, making me question whether this city life with a 9-5 is really all there is to life. It reminds me of a desire that has been growing inside me for a long time. The first time I journaled about it was in February of 2021, but I’m guessing it has been there even before then. The second lockdown had just become a fact, and the walls were closing in on me. All I could dream about was living in a cottage with a big garden where I could grow my own vegetables, keep chickens, and maybe a baby goat or two. I honestly thought it would be a phase. Didn’t we all long to be more free during that time? Since then, the longing for more peace and quiet has become a frequent visitor in my life, though. A companion that I now take with me on my commute to work, into the supermarket and sometimes even on my coffee break in the city park. It makes me search for semi-affordable houses with a hectare of land in villages where the bus only stops every hour. Is that realistic? Probably not. Would I trade my current living situation for it if I could? In a heartbeat.

Reading back through my journals, it’s evident how this longing is becoming a theme. Every time I feel it, I write it down. Peace and quiet, peace and quiet, peace and quiet… Hoping that by immortalising these words on paper, I will feel these priceless things a little more. The desire to live a more free and peaceful life surrounded by nature is now at a point that it’s starting to burn. And it is ignoring all of my usual rebuttals. The “not the right time, not enough money, and be grateful for what you have” kind of arguments. I have no idea if it will happen, let alone when or how, but I guess I’m putting it out here as a sign that I’m willing to listen.