My wardrobe remains closed, its doors, never opened. The clothes barely see the light of day. So much so, I wondered recently, “Is that style still me?”
The drawers that house my pyjamas open and shut, much like those in the ‘tidy up’ nursery scene from Mary Poppins. Pyjamas, you see are much like my uniform. My daily wear. My skin needs soft material that doesn’t aggravate the nerve pain, my body, the warmth or cool that will aid in whatever fluctuating temperature appears that day or hour.
It seems, that pyjamas are my everyday style. What else would one wear when too sick to leave their bed I wonder?
But, I didn’t choose the pyjama lifestyle, it chose me.
Recently I have started selling bits from my wardrobe, items it seems silly to keep. Parts of the old me, clothes that I can’t wear. It has been a hard task. Much too, is home wear. I once hoped and dreamed of living independently, and bought items with that in mind. As the years have passed, as I have become all the more dependant on care once again, I have made the choice to let it all go. However, I can’t help but feel as if I’m letting go of my future with it. It was hope at one stage: to buy mugs with the dream of one day, maybe getting a chance to be a regular person of my age, like my peers, with homes of their own but suddenly those mugs, pots and pans became a weight I could no longer bear. Suddenly, they represented the life unlived and the life I could not live. As did my dresses and unworn shoes.
That of course hasn’t made it any easier to part with, as they go with a tear in my eye.
It strange because they are only material items and to most, they’d just be mugs, yet they are so much more. They are my hopes for more, my dreams of a future of an independent life.
I’m a sentimental soul as it is, my ballet shoes from days gone by were never going to go anywhere.
As the world entered lockdown gone went formal style, loungewear became the new ‘in’ style. Wardrobes were closed, dresses hung untouched, joggers and legging ruled. Suddenly my pyjama life didn’t seem so out of touch with the ‘norm’.
“You’re so lucky you get to stay at home all day”, “I wish I had all the time you have”, “You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, “I just want to be able to chill out like you”…*
Suddenly the wider community had to stay home all day. Suddenly there was time to spend. Yet seemingly, there was no account of how lucky that made anyone?? Could it be that after all, being forced to stay home, unable to do anything isn’t actually lucky after all? What a sad, desperately sad way to have to realise this, to have to live it, as a healthy person, not even sick.
I didn’t choose the pyjama lifestyle, it chose me. I didn’t choose to lose out on my future, my hopes and dreams of a family, to live each day in groundhog day, in an eternal lockdown, unbearably sick, it chose me.
My lockdown hasn’t ended. I’m still in my pyjamas.
I didn’t choose the pyjama lifestyle, it chose me and with that, it took away my everything.
*Just a few examples of things that have been said to me repeatedly over the (many) years, as I’ve sat incredibly sick, life lost, in front of someone.
Read my latest posts:
My favourite comfy pyjama recommendations for anyone in need:
Cotton Modal Revere Collar Pyjama Set – Super soft on your skin (they shrink a bit length wise arms and legs though, but so comfy!)
Satin Animal Print Pyjama Set – I find any of the satin ones lovely on my skin
Tall modal tonal animal traditional short sleeve shirt & trouser pyjama – For tall folk, I’m in love with these, super soft and very long in the legs!