Definition: Lethargy, apathy; a state of mental or physical inactivity; inertia.
The Indo-European language family influenced the Latin term “Torpere”, meaning “to be stiff”.
Why this word?
I’m drawn to this word not only for its rarity, but also because it’s the perfect name to pin onto my greatest weakness.
I like to sleep. I like to lie in bed. I like to nap during the afternoons when there’s not much to do and the day feels like it’s slowed. It’s a simple, indulging sensation of temporary bliss, if I had to describe.
It’s very, very easy for me to justify procrastination (and not just because I know that I work quite well under pressure.) Some days, I want nothing else than to roll over and sleep until Doomsday. Some days, I just could care less what I’ve got scheduled, what time it is, who’s at the door, how many deadlines seem to be piling up my inbox.
The kicker, though, is the exact opposite– It’s that most days, I know how much better, how accomplished I feel when I’m working and being kept busy. I like to work, I honestly do. I like to be casually active. Whether it’s repetitive manual labor outside, interior domestic upkeep, or even spending an hour or two biking; I know how much I really enjoy being occupied. How much I enjoy simply “doing”.
But for some reason, the siren song of fresh linens, a soft mattress, a warm duvet and the sensation of not doing a damn thing always calls out to me.
I guess you could say that I struggle with torpor. (Yes, I am most definitely not a morning person!)
But the first step to fixing a problem is admitting and acknowledging that you have one, right?
How do you use torpor in a sentence?
Example: “As much as my mind struggles with suffering stagnation and the pedestrian mundane, it is the very event of mentally grinding to a halt and succumbing to torpor that I relish the most. I could sleep my life away if there wasn’t such a reaction in our brains as ‘slept too much, time to wake up’.”