Hibernation seems to be a recurring theme of late. I just now, at bedtime, looked up the orange ladybug to see if it stings, to reassure my twins that the tiny clusters of them in the corners of their bedroom ceiling do not, indeed, pose a threat to them at night. Turns out that they do occasionally bite, although they are not typically strong enough to pierce human skin. They are also considered a symbol of good luck, as all ladybugs are, and can also serve as a reminder of your strength, if you like. These little creatures are not in nests, as the boys call them, but are in fact hibernating inside for the winter. How sweet, I think, that they are cosied up in this room in their perfect climate, which oscillates between the humid Champagne weather and the cosy warmth from the fireplace below, as the heat radiates through the wall from the chimney as it passes through the boys’ room on it’s way to the roof.

My dear friend Betty first suggested hibernation back in early September when I was yet again visiting Humboldt from France. This visit was one that was finally as much for me as it was for my mother, as I needed to go there to try to be still for awhile in a place where no one would ask me for anything, where I could just be, if even for a few days, after the summer’s emergency visit had taken such a toll on me, as it was then, when on top of everything else, I’d been struck down by a new form of motion sickness, panic, and severe vertigo while managing everything else. This strange malady had continued on my return home to France, where I couldn’t find my balance, feeling like I was always on a stormy sailboat, finally falling and splitting my forehead open on the corner of a bookcase in the dark whilst getting into bed. A couple friends later said, only half-jokingly, that I’d split open my third eye, meaning I’d literally burst myself open and into my next level of awareness.

When Betty was talking about how she was preparing for her third winter in the hills above Trinidad, in that one valley where the elk are, she told me that she was considering a bit of a self-imposed hibernation for the upcoming season, one in which she would focus on just being and taking good care of herself by eating well, sleeping early, and doing just enough remote work to get by. Her plan was to leave her encampment only to exercise and see Scott, a therapist who is officially a chiropractor but is best described as an energy healer who does body work. I visited him once and can attest that what he does is very special, and if you are looking to go on a healing journey inside yourself, he’s your guy. She wasn’t sure what else she should do next, so was deciding to simply focus on herself. It’s a simple decision that may seem radical to some, but you see, Betty has been living a life that many could only imagine. During the pandemic, she left everything she’d known before, moved across the country in an RV onto land that she’d purchased after visiting Humboldt. Her first winter she had to learn to survive on her own, and it was hard. Her second was a bit easier as she had done it once before, but still the mere logistics of survival took their toll. For her third, well, she was looking forward to enjoying in in the best way possible. She now knows how to get through it, and is taking the chance to slow down and enjoy a bit, to congratulate herself on an accomplishment that many people will never know. She may enjoy it this time, as she knows what to expect and that she can handle the surprises that will of course come up. She’s not adding anything else, she’s just going to get through while taking the best care of herself. So thanks to Betty, this idea of hibernation has been in my head for awhile now.

Today while mindlessly scrolling, I stumbled across a New York Times article on the same topic. I sent it to Betty, but haven’t myself yet read it, and honestly I don’t know if I will get around to it. The intro spoke about mindless scrolling, ironically, and mentioned something about taking the chance to hibernate, which I have been thinking about more and more as of late. You see, recently I’ve been experimenting with sobriety. I had my last drink on the 28th of September, on my flight home from that same trip. Well, my last 4 drinks. I took advantage of the free and quite decent red wine and in order to make myself pass out and to insure that I’d sleep for a good portion of the flight. It worked, but I felt pretty terrible when I work up, as I had done for the last few times I drank. During this trip I had several friends, including Betty who herself was coming up on 9 months of not drinking, suggest that I should give it a try. Considering that loved ones were telling me this, I felt obliged to take their recommendations on board and give it a try. Honestly, I was quite touched that I had people that actually cared enough to say something and express their concern, about me. The fact that I was almost surprised that I had loved ones at all is something to unpack a little further into this.

So here I am, November 14th, a month and a half since my last drink. I’m not sure if I’m exactly sober, as I am taking xanax and lexapro as prescribed by a psychiatrist and per my request. I have also consumed small doses of edible cannabis on a few occasions but have decided not to continue this, at least for now. I am interested in seeing where this journey leads me, and for now, it’s bringing me to consider how a sort of hibernation might benefit me, too. Oh and I quit smoking cigarettes too, on the same day. It’s amazing the power that a deliberate decision has. I guess that my problem lies more so in making the decision than following through on it.

I grew up in rural southern Illinois, in a house that was built by my father. Winters there were harsh and beautiful, and our property had a drive, not a road. The difference is a road is cleared by the county and a drive, well, it’s up to you to sort that out yourself. So my dad had a tractor, one that he cursed on occasion, as I remember. This love, hate, and necessary relationship is common in the country, as I remember. This tractor had a snow plow attachment that he would use to clear the drive when snow had stopped, or sometimes during, and often after winds would create drifts, sometime days after the original snowstorm. Part of this snow ritual was the forced hibernation, which I totally enjoyed. In our small house, which in England would have been described as four-up-four-down but was also quite an interesting open plan, we had 2 wood-burning stoves on the lower level, one just for heat on the left side of the big picture window and one that was a double-oven and stove-top cooking stove to the right. It was a wonderful machine, and was our father’s favorite place to cook, bake, and keep himself occupied during winter mornings, afternoons, and nights. The other stove, I remember that if it was tended properly, the cinders would last till early morning when you could simply add another log to start the day. Both stoves were well designed and well installed. They kept the house full of heat and provided the best atmosphere for our imposed family hibernation.

This time of year is busy for our family now, with 3 birthdays, our wedding anniversary, Thanksgiving (which is all up to me to make a fuss over, seeing as my husband is French), and finally Christmas. I am starting to work again after almost 9 years off whilst having children. The world is a tumultuous place, with terrible news from seemingly everywhere, on every subject. All I want to do is the absolute bare minimum, so that I can do it well. I’m fed up to feel like I’m doing everything halfway and not good enough. I find myself not caring anymore about the perfect this or that. I just want to go to bed early, work enough to stay afloat, love my husband, kids, mother, and sister, focus on my health, both physical and mental, and say no to everything else. I want to hear my quiet thoughts, thoughts which can only rise to the surface if there is enough silence for them to speak up and be heard. I want to finally get enough rest that I’m not tired all day, every day. I want to forget about all of the bad news, if only for a little while, so that I can come out stronger for having listened to myself for a while.

In short, it seems, I just want to hibernate.