i can tell how cold it is just by looking at rhododendron leaves. at 25 F, they begin to appear curled and wilted. when temperatures reach 20 F or below, they coil even tighter together and point straight down. to the unfamiliar eye, it looks like the plants are sick or dying – but that’s not the case at all. the plant is just taking care of itself. this curling is called thermonasty. i laugh at that word whenever i write it. thermo nasty, the temperature is so nasty we need to pretend like we’re dying. anyways, this mechanism is to prevent moisture loss, to shield from the sun and wind, and to encourage snow to slip right off rather than weigh down the branches. by folding inward, the leaves protect and survive through harsh conditions. 

these past two days i have been in my own form of thermonasty. my schedule was so jam-packed that i didn’t even have time to write my daily journal entry, or to take pictures, or even to hike. when i am unable to fulfill the daily commitments i’ve made to myself, it is a sure sign i’m overloaded. the moment i recognize that the environment i’ve built is depleting rather than nourishing me, i curl inward. i cocoon under my blankets. i cuddle with the animals. i find a way to escape the overwhelming external stimuli and tend to my overall health, even for a fleeting moment. 

i am astonished when i look at how much i juggled in my 20s. i’d pull all-nighters and would still be functional. i’d work three jobs and eat whatever i could find. i didn’t need rest. it wasn’t a thing. everything was go go go and i wasn’t taught to stop and question what was actually good for me. i had no connection to my body; my world was outside of it. i understand that my disabilities in present-day have significantly worsened because of that hectic pace i sustained for the first part of my life, but i still long for the ability to do everything i want all of the time like i used to.