Proof of life
“Proof of life” is a text I sometimes get from my best friend.
She sends it lovingly—knowing full well that I am prone to hermit-ing at times. I appreciate her cheeky check-in because it also tends to shake me out of whatever cocoon/recluse phase I’m in and remind me that there are other people in the world. Bestie knows me well and still loves me even when I’ve chosen to disappear from the world.
The thing is, I am a homebody. As in, I like my body to be in my home. Preferably curled up on my couch surrounded by my favourite plants, pictures, pillows and my puppy. I do love a big adventure every so often, but for the most part, small things fill my bucket. Give me a little craft kit and a cup of tea, or a basket of laundry to be folded and a British crime drama, and I am a happy little camper. (Related: Never ask me to go camping.)
Ans while the Victoria meme above is definitely true. Our home isn’t overly large, but is very comfortable. Our living/dining/kitchen/piano playing situation is all in one large room. Our bedrooms are small and functional, and our work/desk spaces are out in the open. When we renovated this house, we did so with the intention of giving every inch of it a purpose and using all those spaces for said purposes. Our style and decor is colourful and maximalist, but not cluttered. I went a bit plant crazy during the pandemic and continue to nurture this particular craze and my 16-year-old daughter insists on putting the toy animals she played with as a toddler in my plant pots—it’s whimsical.
All of our available wall space is occupied with artwork we’ve collected from our travels and photos of the kids and dog(s). We’ve run out of wall for more. Every member of this family has their own section of our built in shelves for the books we can’t part with, and yes, mine is organized by rainbow colours. Nothing in this house is without some kind of meaning to one or all of us.
We don’t host often—not due to a lack of friends, but because we each, in our own way, value keeping the sanctity of our home just for ourselves. We're also a household of introverts, and too much people-ing can be draining, especially in our own space. Our home is a thoughtfully curated place where we rest and recharge. And for some of us (ME), that tends to be a slow process.
For most of June, I was recharging. The beginning of the month was so busy that ten days into it, I was done. Like DONE, done. I even said to someone on or about that day, how much of a whirlwind June had been. To which she responded, “Natasha, it’s not even the middle of the month yet”. We had a good laugh, and then I cried realizing I was facing what, in the end, felt like 45 more days of one long ass month!
I’m not ashamed to say that for the last part of June and into this month, when anyone I’d made plans with texted me to cancel for one reason or another, I was almost gleefully happy to do so.
Instead, I’ve read some books and made some crafty things. I watched all of Dept. Q, the new season of Ginny & Georgia, K-Pop Demon Hunters, and Sinners (finally). I’ve finished another chapter/essay for my book. I spent time practicing my cello and taught myself Happy Birthday so I can play it for my mom at her 75th celebration in a few weeks.
And through it all, I’ve been quietly refilling my cup. That “proof of life” text always makes me smile, knowing Bestie is thinking of me. I assure her that I’m still very much alive, just living slowly and intentionally in a space that feels entirely mine. So if you haven’t heard from me in a while, don’t worry. I’m not ghosting you, and I’m not mad at you about anything. I’m most likely on my couch, or in my writing shed, surrounded by plants and peace, and living that hermit life.
I highly recommend it.
XOXO,
N~