Bored

Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored.

Maybe I should watch TV? Saturday Night Live, I haven’t seen that in 20 years. I bet it’s hilarious with all of this quarantine craziness.

Well, that was sort of funny. Maybe a Netflix movie or series would be good? I flip show to show, movie to movie, but all I feel is bored.

Bored. Pressure in my chest, almost restless, squashed in my mind, it’s a sensation of being flattened by nothingness. I haven’t felt like this since High School! Back then, I remember lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, a listless, jobless Saturday.

For the past 20 years, unable to catch my breath with activity, demands and obligations, I had forgotten about boredom. Babies and diapers and crying at night, friends and get togethers and “what can I bring” texts, date night and talks and Saturday morning breakfast, client meetings and phone calls, consultation and business, oh yes and feed the dogs and grocery shop and then there was no time. Certainly, there was no time to be bored.

In my old life, I felt exhausted, vacant, desiccated. Having recently left my job, my children now 19 and 14, husband happy and retired, friends the same and fabulous, I finally now feel rested. I’m surprisingly full,…and alive again, and now,…even more surprisingly,…bored!

 What an unsuspected side effect of less structured events. Of course, it shouldn’t be that surprising. So many people had said, won’t you be bored if you aren’t working? It makes sense to be bored when forced to shelter in place. The part that is surprising to me is the actual feeling of it, how I can’t seem to escape it or transform it, just succumb.

In therapy, I think that feelings give us directives about what to do to get ourselves back on track. Happy is usually the indicator that we are doing this right thing. Scared usually says something is dangerous, keep yourself safe; sad, that something important is missing; angry urges people to set boundaries. What about bored? What directive is it giving? It’s meaning doesn’t seem as simple to me as it appears.

Sitting on the couch, I run through my list of options: go for a walk, read, think of a creative family activity. Nope, I stare at the ceiling. I wonder if my brain just needs a break, a much earned stare at the ceiling break.

Bored.