Cabin Fever

I'm not much of a homebody, so the past month indoors as a new mother has been rather a challenge to my emotional stability! I love our two-bedroom townhouse; it's filled with momentos of good times and gifts from loved ones, its walls are painted restful and eye-delighting colors by my talented and hardworking mother, and already we have found the home in our hearts reflected in it. I love my charming daughter, with whom I spend my days. I love my writing, Netflix, cooking (and eating), endless episodes of Deep Space Nine, lots of coffee, books, occasional cleaning, and long phone calls. But I can tell you with certainty that it's not enough for my eyes to rest upon.

I need the sky--preferably crisp and blue, with white clouds drifting across like puffy cotton balls. I need the sun to kiss my face and blind me in its radiance. I need to breathe air untainted by a furnace, full of sounds and scents which have nothing whatsoever to do with me. I need to see people in their cars like beetles on the highway, to exchange pleasantries with a friendly barista, to pace the aisles of the grocery store. I need to come home tired and ready to retreat into familiar things.

I'm realizing how much I need bigness around me. I need there to be more than myself and my surroundings. Perhaps this necessity is an integral part of human nature--why, after all, we have as an entire society never been content to imagine that life ended with our bodily death. Nor have we accepted the lack of a Beyond. We need to be small in the vastness of the universe. We need to be less than something--for that means we always have something greater to which to aspire.

My cabin fever is not just due to my extroverted nature, but also to the human necessity to acknowledge myself as part of a greater whole.

Do you get cabin fever? How do you seek to remedy it?