I decided to stop scheduling things on Sundays, so I can enjoy one day free of the calendar. This means I had to resign from some of the classes I was planning to attend, like ASL 104, but I think I need it for my mental well-being. Having something I definitely have to do every day doesn't leave too much room for being bored and exploring what I'm actually interested in.
Today this meant wanting to go and work at a coffee shop, ending up on a long walk with no clear purpose, while dragging my laptop with me. Sometimes I wish I expected less productive time from myself, as I often feel guilty leaving the house with "just" a book to "just" read it at a coffee shop. So I often needlessly hog a lot of stuff around with me, just so my inner critic can feel like I could be productive enough if it came to it. Even when walk back home with acute pain after a few hours of wandering around, I know that this ill-defined productivity will win next time.
I also decided to experiment in the kitchen and make a crostata, which turned out great. The only odd thing about it was that I planned to make one average-pizza sized and ended up with four, which makes it pretty dangerous for my waistline. Granted, they're full of vegetables and goat cheese, but the amount of olive oil and french pastry in each of them balances it out pretty deep into less-than-healthy food territory. I guess I'll have to suffer through two more days of eating delicious, oily vegetable pie, unless my partner beats me to it.
Because of Black History Month, I also started reading some books by PoC writers. Even though I still don't identify strongly with a lot of North American history, coming from a country with no history of colonialism and a very homogeneous population, it still terrifies me to think how much of a different experience people can have because of the colour of their skin. Or maybe, I am even more terrified because it never occurred to me how serious of a problem it is before I moved here?
I know that coming from a pretty comfortable and privileged background I don't experience the same level of risk as many people around me, even back in Poland. I hold myself a different way, I expected different treatment, I have rarely been looked down on or treated worse because of my perceived social status. I know that there is plenty of disgraceful things happening to Poles who happened to be born less lucky - in poorer communities, with less family support, with less opportunities. To add racism into the mix, I find it even harder to understand and relate to.
So I have to learn and experience, spend time to understand and educate myself. Those free-of-calendar Sundays, those moments where I can sit on the couch with tea and snuggle with my cat, help me feel comfortable enough to open myself up to all the horrors.