I was listening to a podcast today which, for me, just means it was a day that ends in a Y. The person being interviewed was saying at some point in his life he stopped responding to the obligatory “how are you” question with “I’m having a hard time” instead of “great…busy”. The person responded with some platitudes about being sorry and he admitted that he was actually pretty happy but just having a little bit of a hard time.
Adam Grant wrote a great piece about languishing to describe the feeling of blah experienced by many people during the pandemic. And, Dani Blum followed it up with a piece about flourishing and how we can start feeling better. Languishing vs flourishing. I fluctuate between the two on a daily, ahem, hourly basis.
People are starting to talk about mental health more and more. The stigma is still there because, well, because we still have a lot of old people who feel shame talking about it. And, they raised kids to feel that shame. And, they raised kids who feel it too. But, their kids are talking about it! Thank God for the millennials and Gen Z. They talk about it. All the time. With their friends. With their parents. On social media. They don’t feel ashamed. It is almost trendy to struggle with mental health.
I am a 49-year old (in 9 days, but who’s counting?) woman and I love where we are headed. And, I am also fucking tired. I get up every day and eat healthily and exercise and work and then go to bed and do it all over again the next day. Adulting.
I try to create balance in my life and do the self-care things suggested by experts. I travel. I laugh. I have uncoordinated dance parties in my bathroom. I connect with friends and family. I get facials and massages. I have a cleaning woman. I am a happy and positive person. I am a fucking ray of light.
What I don’t do is share how I am feeling.
And, I am fucking tired.
I have no kids, no living plants, and no pets. I have to make every single decision in my life. It is exhausting. I love being single. I recognize I have little to complain about in the responsibility arena when I look at friends juggling the stress of a job, spouse, and kids. I fully embrace and appreciate having no responsibilities.
As I am writing this I feel pretty entitled complaining about my first world problems. A million women in the world would give anything to trade lives with me. And, yet I am fucking tired.
I’ve done all the things Dani Blum suggested in her flourishing article. And, I am still languishing. I want a day off. Any volunteers to run my life for a day?