Cold Enough to Be Quiet

Day 20 — December 13, 2025

Today was cold. Not dramatic cold. Not romantic movie cold. Just that gray, damp, bone-aware cold that makes the world feel hushed. The kind of quiet snow brings before it decides whether it’s actually going to show up. It reminded me a little of yesterday, honestly. That same suspended feeling where nothing is wrong, but nothing is settled either.

Everything felt muted. The sky. The air. Even my thoughts moved slower, like they were wearing heavy coats and didn’t feel like taking the stairs.

The holidays are hovering now. Not aggressively. Just… present. I’m surprisingly indifferent about them this year. Not bitter. Not sentimental. Just neutral in a way that feels new. And honestly? Fine. I like my little tree. I like the way the lights glow at night. I like the small moments of joy when they happen. I’m not forcing magic. I’m letting it be occasional. That feels healthier. A continuation of the gentler way I’ve been learning to move through my days.

What defeated me today, though (and this feels ridiculous admitting out loud) was trying to relax.

I wanted background noise. Something to watch. Or half-watch. Or just exist alongside me.

Simple request, right? Wrong.

I have Netflix. HBO. Disney+. Prime. Peacock. Paramount. An embarrassment of cinematic riches. A buffet of content stretching into eternity. And somehow… nothing.

Do I watch something new? A comfort movie? An old favorite I’ve seen twelve times? A documentary I’ll absolutely abandon halfway through?

I spent over an hour, an actual, measurable hour, meandering through options. Adding things to watchlists. Curating future versions of myself who will allegedly be calm enough to enjoy them. And then, like I do every single time, I gave up.

Music. Podcast. Silence. Repeat.

There’s something oddly exhausting about too many choices when your nervous system is already tired. Like my brain burns calories just considering enjoyment. I don’t know if that’s trauma. Or healing. Or just my personality evolving into something more feral and particular. Probably all three. Especially when I think back to how this journal even began.

It feels silly. It is silly. And it’s also kind of telling.

Maybe this is me right now. Someone who wants rest but doesn’t quite know how to land in it yet. Someone who keeps building little lists for a future version of herself who feels more settled. Someone who’s moving forward without a manual and occasionally gets worn out by the menu.

Maybe I’ll get to those watchlists someday. Maybe I won’t. Maybe they’re just proof that I’m trying to imagine myself comfortable again. Even if I don’t quite believe it yet.

Tonight, the cold pressed gently against the windows. The tree lights flickered. The world stayed quiet. And I let the day be what it was: low-stakes, slightly absurd, deeply human.

No revelations.
No resolutions.
Just me, existing in the in-between.

Chaos in one hand.
Grace in the other.
And a woman learning that even choosing nothing is still a choice