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Doors That Get Stuck in Winter

Trying to shut a wooden door the other day when the usual gentle click is replaced by an angry slam. I jerk it open and pop my head down the hall. That’s not normal, right? I am told they get like this in the winter. In the colder weather.


It’s not a thing I remember. Doors needing slammed through changing seasons? It’s something I’ll think about for the rest of the day.


A few sleeps later, I am talking to a friend who tells me they feel stuck. I think of the doors that get stuck in winter. I want to tell them that it’s because of the cold weather and that if they just push a bit harder, it’ll all click into place. But they are not a door. And so instead I listen politely.


Each time I cross the threshold, I find I am giving more effort to the door. It is no longer a mindless thing for me. I am deeply aware of each stick. As quietly as I could navigate from bedroom to hallway in the past, I now feel I am pushing and creaking and negotiating an exchange.


There is something about the door that is stuck. It isn’t ruined permanently. It isn’t absolutely immovable. It isn’t totally non-functional. It’s just a little sticky.


And I’m now beginning to understand.


You are not irreparably broken. You are not a lost cause. You are not the mess that the dark part of your mind wants to tell you that you are. You’re just a little sticky.


You’re in a changing season. And that’s okay. You didn’t notice all the moments when you could walk in and out of the door with ease. But now things are sticky. And that’s okay too. Because eventually, sticky things get unstuck. With time. With patience. With a little bit of WD-40.


In the meantime, push through it. It might be a little loud and it might be a little messy, but perhaps the best parts of life are. And, I promise you that one morning you’ll wake up to an unstuck door. And these days, weeks, months, or years of stickiness will have prepared you to walk through it. Hold on for that moment.


Love always,

Liz

Writing, for me, has been stuck in winter. More specifically, it’s been stuck in a moment 2 years removed that took words from me. But it is not permanent. It is not immovable. It is not unfixable. It’s just a little sticky. And that’s okay. Because each day I move a little closer to getting unstuck. And that’s pretty beautiful.