Bored and Flat

Being bored

Being bored makes me feel guilty. I’ve never figured out how to just live with it.

My friend Maureen, the journalist, asked me why I’m not writing. I told her I feel like my life is on hold, not moving forward in a way I can write about. Actually I’m a bit bored. She said, write about that.

When I started this blog a bit over a year ago, I was struggling with my grief from losing my husband of 40 years. And figuring out who I am as a widow and what I’m going to do in this last third of my life. Writing helps me, I must think and then find the words to describe my feelings. I find it cathartic.

In my younger years, I was very good at working toward a goal. I was successful in my career. I figured out how to adopt a baby before the internet existed.

I expected those skills to propel me through this transition period.

I expected I could use internet dating to find a companion, maybe even romance. I realized quickly that there are three times the widows compared to suitable male candidates. Wasted time, money and emotional energy.

I regrouped. I made the decision to leave Florida, move to North Carolina. Build a house and a new life. Necessary steps to finding my way as a widow, which wasn’t something I had aspired to. And yes I stumble here and there.

But the last couple months, I’m between seasons and between homes. Between long term solid friends and newly developed ‘learning about each other’ friends.

The weather has been rainy, cold, dreary. Today is bright sunshine but overnight temp was low 30’s. My house plants are on my screened in porch and I covered them with a beach towel. They survived the night but we have the same for the next two nights. Not the mountain spring I had envisioned.

Before I went to Florida in mid February, I had a dinner with Don’t Touch Me Fred. I had tickets to a Tom Rush concert. It was supposed to be two days before but Rush was sick and the new date was same night as a previously scheduled dinner with Fred. It was a rainy, very cold night. Dinner was fine - at a restaurant we both like. Then Fred made the decision that we were going to both drive to the concert venue that was about a mile away. I think hes afraid im going to jump his bones. I am so far from that. It was pouring rain and an uphill climb from parking lot to the l concert hall. Just a miserable night.

Bob and I saw Tom Rush in concert a couple times when we were younger and then on the Cape about five years ago. Rush is 82, same age as Fred. Rush is still fit, vibrant, pretty funny.

Fred made his way to our seats a bit before me and sat reading on his phone when I arrived. I expected him to put his phone away. He didn’t. I was annoyed but he’s always been ego-centric and odd.

I thoroughly enjoyed the concert. Rush isn’t the best singer but he tells funny stories, sings songs I recognize from my thirties. It was low key, sweet, charming and to me enjoyable. I think Fred clapped for one song. He was clearly bored.

Afterwards as we walked to our cars in the cold rain, I took his arm to steady him. An automatic gesture as he seemed unsteady on his feet on the wet pavement. He was clearly anxious to get out of the wet and cold and get home. Maybe even get away from me and an evening he hadn’t enjoyed.

I haven’t heard from him since. And I’m more than fine with that. It’s time to put that friendship away.

I don’t need male companionship enough to put up with his bordering on rude behavior. However yesterday I wondered if he’s ill. And decided I’m ok with not knowing.

The foundation for my house is now complete. They dug down 26 feet on one side and 24 on the other and built cement block walls up to ground level - essentially a fortress. Built to last several lifetimes.

They’re supposed to start framing this week. They’re still saying they can make up some time and could be done by September. I’m thinking October is best possible case.

I’ve settled into patience with the process. As long as something is going on most days, I’m okay with it. My acute anticipation is on hold.

I’ve got a new hiking group with my friend Jill. There are six of us and 4 dogs. We meet up once a week and walk a couple hours - so far in new forest paths - at least new to me.

Hiking boots are a metaphor for my new life progress. False starts, new decisions. Try to keep moving forward. I’m on my 5th and 6th pairs of hiking boots and shoes. I discovered that one toe gets mashed against another on one foot. Never experienced it before.

I’ve had 3 different sizes of Merrills that still hurt. Tried boots and shoes. Tried hiking in Kiziks and slid down a muddy pathway a few weeks ago. I was determined and kept trying and kept sliding down. My friends laughed but we all gave up and did an easier flat walk.

So I researched hiking boots with the widest toe space. Tried Keen boots. My toe still gets mashed but not painfully. So added a pair of hiking shoes.

So far I’m able to hike a couple hours without pain. But I’m still not optimistic about longer, tougher hikes. This speaks to my ongoing re-evaluation of my life. Every day a little step, as one if my German colleagues used to say.

Gracie is a happy girl on these hikes. Dogs are off-leash. Last week they were all able to swim in the Davison River several times. My friend Jill’s German Shepherd likes to roam far. Gracie sticks close to us and stays near the pathway. She’s a good girl. Getting her was clearly a great decision.

I’m most content when I’m outside. I find real joy in physical exertion and being in nature. And gardening, which is very limited in my condo.

Jill and I did a tour of Highland Reserve, a nature preserve - last week. Beautiful setting and grounds but disappointed that it wasn’t more native plantings. But still lovely and outside.

On health side, after 3 months of diet with no alcohol, sugar or grains, I’m halfway to reversing my newly diagnosed diabetes.

I’m resigned to no expectations for romance or sex. My life is pleasant. I may need to find a volunteer gig. I’ve lost my appetite for political activism. I donate money but I never watch the news. This remains an unexplored option.

I am involved in American Association of University Women. I did a short term writing group with them that I liked. And I’m helping with a huge annual book sale that’s coming up. And meeting smart, interesting women.

I sorely miss movies and live theater. I even started a weekly ladies night tv group like we did on the Cape.

So I’m paying attention and trying to find a balance of contentment and exertion. It’s trial and error, just like finding the right hiking footwear.

Today is Easter. Having a group dinner at Jill’s with 7 people. Learning how to deal with holidays, always a difficult time for me now.

But I am a bit bored, like I’m waiting and biding my time. Life feels a bit flat. The flatness I’m feeling is partially because I’m not drinking wine. Doing it for my health but also because I feel better. But I miss the highs of drinking and laughing with friends. But if the choice is between drinking wine every night and feeling a bit flat, I choose flat l, hands down.

I await warmer spring weather biking - and my new house!

In the meantime I am just a tiny bit bored - and feeling flat. But I’m doing my best not to feel guilty.

Sent from my iPhone