For the last six
months I’ve been thinking I was bored with my life, but the reality is that
maybe I don’t know how to be comfortable. Growing up there was always a crisis,
then came marriage, numerous moves, a child, a death, teen drama, graduate school,
marriage therapy…it seemed like there was always something to work
through.
Now it’s all been
worked through and still I’m ill at ease.
I’m bored with myself,
my partner, my dogs. Everything
feels repetitive.
I want to run away. To
hide in a cheap hotel with the blinds pulled closed
and to mindlessly
watch television.
Yet, the reality of
this fantasy is that I would miss everything that I was running away from. I am
fulfilled by my job, I adore my husband, our daughter is living out her dreams
in Europe,
and the dogs each have a piece of my heart.
So what is my
problem?
Comfort…quiet,
peaceful comfort…has not been a regular part of my life and I believe
that this
sweet spot that I find myself in is weirding me out.
I don’t know how to
BE.
This realization, I
hope, is going to be the moment of my turning this funk around. Now I’m going
to turn off the computer and curl up on the sofa with my husband and appreciate
how happy football makes him and just BE.
