I worry that we aren't engaging with life
On second chances and comfort zones.
I wrote this post a few days before we left Bangkok for Rome, where we’re spending the holidays with my family. I’m feeling a little differently now we’ve left, but this was where I was then, and so I’m sharing it anyway.
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I worry that we aren’t engaging with life.
This was replaying over and over in my head last night, as I was trying to fall asleep.
Lately, I roll out of bed and reach for my phone. I rub my eyes, and half-awake I check email, Instagram, Substack, WhatsApp.
Sometimes I bring my phone with me to make coffee, listening to something or checking or scrolling.
It doesn’t feel like I’m starting the day the way I want to, but I find it hard not to.
I’ve noticed a shift in my children too. L reaches for his iPad at the merest hint of boredom. P watches maybe one or two shows more than we agreed. They don’t want to go out much, they hate the heat and the noise and the chaotic streets, they say. Their legs hurt, or their tummies, or both. They’re tired. They need quiet, they say.