It's Cozy Season, and I'm Officially Unavailable

A commitment to show up and write my truth | Day 283 of 365

My ideal cozy night starts with my black pajama pants.

They're soft, they're cute, and they could pass for something you'd wear out of the house, which I consider the highest compliment a pair of pajamas can earn. I love them the way some people love a piece of jewelry. I'd like them to stay in my life for a very long time.

Once they're on, the evening has begun. Everything else is just details.

Cozy Season Starts With Popcorn

It has to be popcorn, and specifically Lesser Evil, the organic kind made with coconut oil. Not chips, not crackers, not whatever's left in the pantry. When it goes on sale I stock up, because few things are sadder than getting all settled on the couch and finding the cupboard bare.

(This is not a sponsored post. Lesser Evil has no idea who I am. But if they'd like to change that, I know exactly where I'd put the delivery. Kidding. Not kidding.)

Before we moved, I gave away five bags.

Five. I must have been picturing a future where every other food disappeared and we'd be asked to live on snacks. And now here I am in our temporary house, with a blanket and a plan and no popcorn at all, after all that careful stocking.

I'm trying to be mature about it.

Something to Watch That Isn't My Actual Life

I don't watch much television anymore. When I do, I want something easy, a series or a movie I can sink into without thinking. A story that has nothing to do with what I'm handling tomorrow. If someone on the screen has a complicated problem, wonderful. Let them sort it out. I'm only here for the popcorn.

For a few hours, I just want to breathe.

Cozy Season Is a Good Time to Get Choosy

Here's the part I've been learning to say out loud: for those few hours, I'm not available.

Not to the phone, not to a long conversation, not to one more person who needs a piece of me before I've even found the remote. I can love someone completely and still not want to talk right now. Especially if talking means putting down the popcorn.

That used to feel like something I had to apologize for. I'd see a call come in and my whole body would say no while my mouth said "sure, of course." But I've started to notice that a quiet evening isn't me pulling away from anyone. It's me deciding what this particular hour is for. Most of my day is spent listening, answering, thinking, and showing up. The evening has a different job, and I'm allowed to protect it.

You probably know the feeling. The phone lights up, you feel your shoulders rise toward your ears, and then you feel guilty for the shoulders. Maybe the kindest thing you can do for the person calling, and for yourself, is to call back tomorrow when you actually have something to give them.

An Evening Doesn't Have to Impress Anyone

When I describe what I actually want, it's embarrassingly simple. The pants I love, popcorn, something easy to watch, and a phone I'm not answering.

I'm not looking for a beautifully planned night. I don't need to earn it by finishing a list first. The whole appeal is that very little is required of me.

Maybe your version looks different. Maybe it's a book and a heavy blanket, or a quiet kitchen after everyone else has gone to bed. Whatever it is, I'd love to know what you would choose if the evening didn't have to look good to anybody.

Mine wouldn't make much of a highlight reel. Woman puts on her favorite pants and eats popcorn in front of the television. Phone stays face down.

Honestly, it sounds lovely.

I'm grateful I already know what makes an evening feel good to me. I don't have to guess, and I don't have to go anywhere to find it. It's been in my drawer the whole time.

Now I just need to buy more popcorn.

The pants are ready.

About the Author | Day 283 of 365

I'm a soul-led coach, entrepreneur, mother, and recovering perfectionist, currently navigating healing, uncertainty, temporary chapters, motherhood, work, big transitions, grief, nervous system healing, overstimulation, emotional growth, and the ongoing lesson that life works a whole lot better when we stop trying to carry everything alone. Today that lesson looked like deciding what I'm available for tonight, and discovering that my ideal cozy evening needs almost nothing: my favorite pajama pants, popcorn, and a phone I'm free to ignore.

Day 283 of 365. Still showing up. Still grateful. Still wondering how I gave away five bags of popcorn and ended up with none. 🐧