From the cocoon

This time of the year is when I get a little blue. Vitamin D deficiency, my body’s disdain for the cold, my looming birthday. The feeling of being alone on this big rock.

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Despite the mythology, suicide rates are lower around the holidays.

In my line of (mental health) work, we do still understand the period between Thanksgiving to Valentine’s Day as a time of crisis.

Financial and emotional insecurity, difficult family relationships, darker days. It often leads to bad decisions. I always tell people “make that extra call, people need each other at this time of the year.

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My partner asks me why I am so excited about researching the Kahena, Dihya, the Amazigh princess/ military general who fent off the Arab invasion of North Africa.

They say that she was particularly skilled at battle because she had divinatory powers, and could see the future unfold before it happened.

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I was born on Christmas. A deep irony. I have struggled with sustaining relationships my whole life. This year has felt particularly challenging in that regard.

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My therapist says “you know the meme about the year of the snake, a time of shedding.” How much more can I shed? How can I shed when there is nothing left to let go of?

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I already booked my next flight to Morocco, as a way of having something to look forward to. In Morocco, I don’t struggle to be seen by my people as much as I do here.

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Next week, I will be alone on my birthday, and I do enjoy the solitude. That’s the contradiction. I pre-ordered some treats from the Syrian bakery, and plan on making myself some delicious soup. My brain keeps telling me that it’s time to just schedule that virtual class on trauma writing I have been promising people. I worry nobody will sign up. We’re all broke these days.

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I borrowed this book from the academic library about the Jewish community in Fez between 1450 and 1700 and I harassed Ayoub to talk about it together.

I read a few paragraphs to him over the phone, and then we talked about the Medina and the mellah and what we’re learning about crafts made by Jews back them. It brings me joy.

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Untangling a life, as I have for this past year, is a process of suspension. In between two potential paths, progressively removing myself from places, not willing to invest anymore in a place I will leave soon. It means short-term disaffection and grief. The grief always looms, doesn’t it?

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The Kahena died in battle. If I believe that she could predict what hadn’t happened yet, does it mean she surrendered to fate, or does it mean that she chose that ending?