I can remember my brother playing Metroid on his Nintendo when we were kids. A few Christmases ago, I bought Ryan a little Nintendo system that plays several old school games. He hasn’t played it in a while, but Dylan pulled it out today. (Full disclosure: He recently asked if he could purchase Metroid for his Switch, and I haven’t decided yet, so I guess it’s been on his mind.) (Second disclosure: He’s now playing Punch Out! I remember my brother playing this, too.)
Obviously, Dylan doesn’t feel the nostalgia I do when he immerses himself in old-school video games. For me, the familiar lulls me into a place of comfort.
Temperatures dropped this week, which means I’m wearing scarves in the house and complaining about how early darkness falls. It’s tough to relax when you’re cold, to participate in productive activities when you’re wrapped in a blanket.
I’ll get used to the weather eventually; I won’t be cold until April, even though it’s something I say every year at this time. Until then, I’m trying to find comfort where I can, and that means immersing myself into the familiar.
I should be editing and formatting my Christmas story for release later this month. Instead I’m here, where I write and post without worrying too much about plot holes. After all, there’s another chance to post tomorrow. I should be training for a 10K. Instead, I’m struggling to get 10K steps a day. I should be eating foods I know help me feel energized and strong. Instead, I’m going back and forth between Halloween candy and cheese and crackers. (Those things do not maximize my energy or my ability to button my jeans comfortably.)
I know it’s not necessarily healthy to worship at the altar of productivity. Downtime matters, too, and growth happens in those pauses. Still, wallowing in immediate comfort sometimes makes me feel worse in the long run, so I’m going to do my best to shift a few of those comfort responses to areas that feel a little more like a stretch — maybe I’ll sacrifice the cheese to start.
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