The danger of the waning thrill.

There is a difference between being contentedly bored,

And that gnawing lull of ‘being over it’.

Now, would the second be something you feel lately?  I have. Admittedly I have times that the numbness of everything is nestlingly comfortable – and some may say a tad depressive, but it is a very real thing when life seems to be on playback and repeat rather than thrillingly mobile.

There are healthy debates about this, but the truth is that at this stage, all the gathering and doing and planning have could reached a flat lining plateau in your life.  The house has been painstakingly decorated, your clothes suffice, the garden is well, gardened and so forth.  You just don’t get the thrill out of shopping anymore (say what!) and work, relationships, just about everything seems dull and repetitive. Boring. 

A discussion the other day, about this very ‘blah’ feeling we get, is that our generation has perhaps really done it all in a shorter time frame;  we have been in many different jobs, travelled often, moved home more than a few times, educated and seen the children fly,  attended a hundred functions and over the gym.  Rather than toss our furniture and stuff – we hang onto them now for sentimental reasons – this reminds me of the children, that when our parents were alive – something else from someone else and our nest becomes our museum of our own making.  We hang onto clothes that may come in useful when the plague is back in fashion, or all those knitted jerseys and beanies never quite looked good so why knit some more?  Tired of your own cooking – it happens.  Cooking may even cease to be anything but practical. Series watching seems less work.

The Thrill is gone, or waning and leaving the building. 

Our lives seems to get smaller (some say they like this) and the thrill of starting anything new seems too much effort.

So, the other day, in one of those distinctly sitting and staring at nothing outside kind of moments, I was not bored, I was thrillless.  Without the slightest flicker of a thrill situation. This could have gone on indefinitely but I was likely to join the likes of Miss Havisham at the table with cobwebs glistening in my hair – it was time to realise I was the bad kind of bored.  I was the thrill missing in my life kind of bored and that is not good.  Not good at all. 

I was leaving my own table with nowhere to go.  So what to do other than the weekly must do’s and the occasional blimp of a highlight on the horizon. Anything but nothing I said to myself and set a task to get the bum off the chair and the blood pumping to Thrill status again.

It may not be skydiving but there are some thrilling little creative lists in action.

Don’t let the waning of thrill get the better of you. And don’t tell me you are content. Only Charlotte Collins, nee Lucas, is. Choose Elizabeth Bennet.

 

Images:  Craft your content.