Uncomfortable Being Comfortable

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.