Is This It?

From world-changer to Netflix watcher

Is my life getting smaller?

In an interview, I heard actor Austin Butler say, “Aging is the aggressive pursuit of comfort,” and I feel like that’s a perfect description of me right now.

My life is comfortable…and shrinking. I used to go out dancing until 3:00 in the morning. Now I listen to true crime podcasts while making dinner for one.

I walk the dog. And do it again. And again and again and again.

I go to Costco and buy “enough toilet paper for all the orcs in Isengard” (a direct quote from The Blond One). 

I manage, pick up, and take all my meds. I meet my deadlines for work, and meet with a wide variety of doctors that seems to expand every year. You name it, I’ve got a specialist for it. 

I’ve developed a strong aversion to driving to Denver, which I swear to god is only 30 minutes from my doorstep. I realize this is ridiculous.

If I’m being completely honest, I can’t see particularly well at night (this is apparently a symptom of being a middle-aged woman, because all my friends bitch about it, as well). I feel like that one is unfairly limiting. My eye doctor (who is also a middle-aged woman) told me she no longer drives at night AT ALL, which was not encouraging.

I hate this smallness. There’s not enough adventure, not enough verve, not enough…I don’t know…MORE. There has to be more. 

On the Other Hand

Of course, it’s not all gloom and doom. I have an amazing community of friends, and I love seeing them for brunches and coffee. I like going to visit my family in Pennsylvania.

I genuinely like my clients. They’re good human beings.

The Blond One continues to be a delight, and I can’t tell you how awesome it is to have him going to school at Colorado State in Fort Collins instead of 10 hours away in Montana. 

I listen to new music all the time, and I have fun building playlists that include everything from Teddy Swims and HAIM to Sam Hunt. 

I think I’m a decent mom.

Most of the time I believe I’m a pretty good friend.

People would miss me if I got hit by a bus tomorrow.

My dog curls up like a chipmunk at the foot of my bed every night, and sleeps through until morning.

I get a lot of joy from reading every day.

But lately, I’ve been looking around and thinking, “Is this it?” Doing the dishes over and over and over and worrying about my cholesterol and talking to clients on Zoom?

Little Bethy

On the night of my high school graduation, I was 17 years old, and I felt like I was on the cusp of big things. I remember thinking, “This is the start of it all — now I can change the world.”

(I miss the Beth in this photo.)

Instead of changing the world, I’m about to turn 50 and I write blog posts for a living, while listening to Post Malone.

So, is this it?

Sigh. 

I would like to think I’m meant for more than just hunkering down at night with Netflix. 

I can do more with my brain than memorize the location of every 7-11 in a 20-mile radius so I can keep a continuous stream of Diet Coke flowing through my veins at all times.

I want my life to get bigger — even little by little — instead of shrinking.

Anybody else feel this way sometimes?

Life as an adult can really be a grind.

I’m exhausted by the repetitiveness and smallness of it. 

Comfort Zone

I spent this past weekend with a friend of mine, and I feel like it should have been joyful and refreshing, but instead, I was mostly cranky. There was a lot of activity and noise and people and pets, and it was a LOT. Even though her house is amazing and I adore my friend and one of the pets was mine.

But most of the weekend, I just wanted to be at home in the quiet. I was irritated that she didn’t have AppleTV+ on her TV, and I couldn’t watch the next episode of Pachinko. 

I mean, seriously. I’m sorta disgusted with myself. What’s so great about being home alone, anyway?

So why do I crave and resist the small at the same time?

I can’t tell if this is depression, or just existential dread.

My friend Sarah told me Newton’s First Law of Motion states that an object at rest tends to stay at rest.

I have become an object at rest.

The question is how to become an object in motion without getting exhausted or manic — or how to do it when chronic pain is a limiting factor. 

How do I live a bigger life?

What exactly does “a bigger life” look like?

And is there a way to baby-step my way toward more fulfillment?

Or is the adult smaller life just inevitable? The dishes, the dog, the Costco?

Please tell me if you feel this way.

What do you do to fight against the grind?