Facing ourself (hollow self-portrait)

I live alone. Well, not quite, I live with Celtic, my old dog who comes with me on most of my travels, as much as possible. I used to live in a small house, in a small street, in a small village in the Lot. I rented this semi-furnished house: it is in stone, with beams, parquet, and some furniture and elements that do not belong to me, mixed with mine. The house has a rather rustic, old, but functional interior that has its charm. I felt good there, and I spent the lockdowns established by the government during this covid-19 pandemic.

I usually have a very active social life. But I was in a moment of my life when loneliness was not heavy, quite the contrary. After a few days when I felt symptoms of stress, more related to repetitive and anxiety-provoking information, I finally welcomed lock down with a positive state of mind: after several personal trials, it was the right time in my life. This loneliness helped me to recharge my batteries, to take care of myself, to rest, to learn, to cultivate myself and to create. A certain routine had obviously set in: work, dog walks, cleaning, cooking, the evening movie with hot chocolate, shopping, reading. Everything I already do on a daily basis in normal times, but, this time, without the unforeseen outings with friends, restaurants, movies, exchanges. Life stripped of the little extras that spice it up.

But if we take a closer look, this routine wass both repetitive and never identical to the day before: the state of mind, the weather, meetings with neighbors, calls with family and friends, weekend painting in the house I bought, have become the little events that shaked it up. We rebalance the emotions: no need for major events to feel them. Of course, this routine was not free from blues, depression, nostalgia, desire to travel, parties and meetings. Boredom sometimes too.

That was how I marveled at a ray of sunlight through the window, a laught with a friend on the phone, a book that I couldn’t stop reading, a cake that I baked just for myself, a documentary or a film that nourished me. And, every now and then, I broke the law, reasonably, to have dinner with friends.