Waking Up

Have you ever felt like you’ve lost yourself? That somewhere in the busyness of life, somewhere between the 9–5, family, housework, making dinner yet again, you forgot who you were? The repetitiveness of life, telling the same jokes, the same stories, until you forgot what made them funny to you in the first place. Life can begin to feel like a simulation if you let it. Like you’re experiencing it, but not really living it.

I was having this conversation with a friend the other day, and we are both in the same place of breaking out of this. Of waking up from the monotonous rhythms of life that have lulled us to sleep. Have you ever woken up and you’re not sure where you are for a few minutes? That’s where I’m at. I feel like I’m in that groggy waking up state and I’m looking around wondering who’s been running this life, because it doesn’t look like me.

Maybe this is all a big lesson in disassociating. That’s a fancy word that describes how people who’ve lived through trauma protect themselves. Their brains make it feel like life isn’t real, like you’re watching a movie, not actually living. It’s a weird trick of the brain that allows people to live through all sorts of horrors. But sometimes it can happen when nothing horrible is going on, because the brain goes into overdrive.

Have you ever had a dream and realize that you’re having a dream and start trying to wake yourself up? That’s a bit how I feel. I’m trying to wake myself up. I see that I’ve not been fully living. Somewhere between lockdowns and riots my dazed brain tucked me away for a good long nap, and I’m just now realizing it.

I sit every day and watch the world spin outside my window. I’m done being a spectator. I’m going to the other side of the glass. I’m getting outside of myself. I’m remembering who I am. I’m waking up.