on being a homebody

I like being home. It seems weird coming from me, a person who loves to travel, but when I’m here in my hometown of New York City, I just like being home, inside in my room with my dog, all of my crafty stuff and my imagination (or Netflix) to keep me company. I don’t know what it is, but I become this homebody whenever I return home. Generally, I only leave the house to go to work–if I have work–or those occasional times when I’m up for seeing my friends. But for the most part, even those opportunities to see my friends rarely makes me want to leave my home. For awhile, I thought it was just me–and it could possibly well be just me–but I have a feeling this city I live in is also to blame. (As is the weather though, because it’s getting closer to winter and I hate the cold).

I don’t know about you, but living in NYC is expensive and stressful. Even when you don’t have a job–like my current situation–it’s still a bit stressful. How that can be? I have no idea. There’s just this tension in NYC air that just never goes away. I feel it instantly every time I return home from someplace else. I always think, if it wasn’t so stressful to get on the subway to go somewhere, I’d probably go out more. But alas, I hate the subway because it never works, I hate the people cause they’re mostly rude and it’s super expensive now to just go somewhere and come back. I rather not go through all that hassle and just stay in and watch a movie or two.

But it could also be the weather. I often find myself drowning in a deep case of SAD whenever the season changes from summer to fall and fall to winter. I don’t like the cold. I don’t like wearing layers of clothing or jackets or coats or hats, gloves, boots and the like. I feel so constrained that if I have to dress up in a winter getup to just go somewhere, I’d rather just stay in. I can wear whatever I want in my warm home.

And all of this effects my mood. When I don’t want to deal with something that I can decide not to deal with, I’m just not going to deal with it, you know? I suppose it’s a case of comfort for me. If doing something, wearing something or the process of going somewhere doesn’t appeal to my level of comfort, I just rather not do it. I can’t tell if this is a form of laziness, tiredness or depression, but staying in where I feel most comfortable always seems fine to me.

I sometimes wonder if motivation is a factor in me being such a homebody. Like, I’m seriously unmotivated to do all of those things, possibly because they aren’t things that appeal to me. Or maybe because I don’t have anything to do–like a job or some sort of purpose in my day–it just drives me deeper into my slothness and just the thought of having to spend money that I don’t have to go out and do things seems a bit counterintuitive.

I suppose I’m in a rut. And it’s not because I feel stuck–cause I don’t fell like I’m stuck–I just feel like I have no purpose. And this isn’t all of the time, but most of the time. Because some days I feel good and well motivated to do something. But lately, most days I just feel blah and don’t want to leave my home to do anything. And while I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, I do feel like I could be doing more. I’m just not doing enough. But how do you accomplish more when you’re not motivated to do anything?

I guess this long rant really doesn’t have anything to do with being a homebody, does it?