I was trying and failing to get up the energy to dive into another session grading student work. I muted the TV during the commercial break and looked over at my computer workstation and thought for a second that I felt bored. But with too much to do both personal and with my job, how could I be bored? Something reminded me that only a couple months ago I was living in a household with five others, three cats and a very loving Irish Setter. I don’t remember a time when I ever entertained thoughts that I was bored. Granted, before my illness I never paced myself and when I was living in the busy household if I wasn’t looking for some way to escape my pain there was always something going on to grab my attention.
In that moment, sitting on my couch looking at the back of my computers, I realized that it was easier back then to live in the slipstream of all those lives, especially when I didn’t have the energy to do anything else. I had fallen into a pattern, I was living vicariously frozen in my own situation. It was easy. It was too easy. Granted, I wasn’t exactly in the position to do too much more than just get through each day and focus on getting better. So, easier was also better.
It had been a long time since I’d been in a relationship and even longer since I’d lived full-time with anyone (much less four generations and their pets). And we didn’t live together or were even just together for that long so that the possibility of boredom might have crept in, so maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. It just seems like, with all of that energy living under one roof, that on some level it would have been easier to stay there and live via the slipstream. Thus the difference between now and then would be that right now unless I get off my ass, spend the energy going out and forging new connections, nothing happens. I mean, it was a great TV show, but how much MAS*H can one watch night after night? Wow, who would have guessed that it would be easier on some level to live with five others, three or more cats and an Irish Setter? And what’s really surprising is that I really do miss Sly.