In case you are tempted to diagnosis my ennui, believe me when I tell you I am not depressed, I am not ill, I really can't even blame my advanced age (66 is the new 65 after all), I am just bored. So if we are going to unpack any psychosis today, let's unpack "pandemic induced boredom".
Merriam-Webster dictionary defines bored as "the state of being weary and restless through lack of interest". I gave this definition a great deal of thought. Why have I lost interest? I mean, in reality my life hasn't significantly changed much during this pandemic. I am retired, so I'm not missing my job. I live alone and enjoy living alone, able to pick and chose those times I want to be by myself and when I want to be social. So what is the problem?! What has caused my get-up-and-go to grind to a halt? I have a couple of theories.
One, the few activities that I have not been able to enjoy because of Covid (community theater productions and festivals/concerts/parties) turned out to be more important to my mental well being than I realized.
Two, the idea that new activities that could give me good excuses for putting off the mundane daily chores/activities are not presenting themselves these days. I had no idea how much I thrive on engaging with new people, new challenges and new places. I am also developing guilty feelings about my lack of desire to do laundry or clean house, activities I pre-pandemic felt no guilt whatsoever about ignoring.
So what am I saying here? I suppose the lack of "distractions" is what Merriam-Webster is describing as my "interest". I realize that so many of us are having very real mental issues surviving this difficult time, and my boredom is, in the big picture, a petty complaint. In the words of my friend, Shana Ledet Qualls, I need to scratch my ass and get happy. So I will stop complaining. Thanks for listening to my TED talk.
