The Neglected Middle Child of Mental Health
“Doing nothing is very hard to do... you never know when you’re finished.”
I am wearing my flannel nightgown this last day of August and thinking that soon, I will need to light the fireplace for a few minutes in the morning to take the chill out of the air. The dregs of my second cup of coffee have cooled as I sit here writing in my bed at 10:30 a.m. What are my plans for the day as I wrap up this blog post? Not a hell of a lot - much like most days these last few weeks. Who am I kidding, much like most days these last couple of years!
I thought I might be lazy or bored; I knew I was not depressed. I have had dysthymia since my early adolescence, I am familiar with depression. This was something else. Turns out, I am languishing. Organizational psychologist Adam Grant describes this as the neglected middle child of mental health, “the void between depression and flourishing… a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at life through a foggy windshield.” Sociologist Corey Haynes suggests it is showing up for life but living without purpose or aim.
The phrase was widely shared during the pandemic, which makes sense as so many of us were languishing, but the feeling has been around for decades. I learned the phrase while reading a Psyche Guide, How to get your mojo back.
I stay away from labels, but labels also remind me I am not alone. I felt the same when I was finally diagnosed with dysthymia, a low-grade depression that comes and goes. Finally, after 50 years, I had an explanation for how I had been feeling. (Check out my blog post, Fifty Shades of Grey, to learn more about my experience with dysthymia).
I began languishing just before the pandemic. I was losing interest in my career. Often, I would sit at my desk, accomplishing very little. While I had poured my heart and soul into my work, I had reached a point in life when retirement looked appealing. I was looking forward to fulfilling some of my personal dreams and passions.
I retired and started blogging and facilitating life story workshops. I began researching materials for a book I wanted to write. I was looking forward to my husband’s retirement and moving to our island home. But somewhere along this journey, long episodes of doing nothing would take over my days. I was still fulfilling all my commitments, yet I had difficulties focusing, and nothing captured my interest. I read book after book, mindless fiction I could escape into. I spent too many hours online, browsing and playing card games. I would start gardening, only to abandon digging in the dirt after half an hour. I would go on walks, then cut them short and head home. Too often, I would realize in the evening that I had not accomplished anything all day.
Psychologist Russell Hyken noticed a surge in therapy clients who came to sessions to process feelings of aimlessness and stagnation during the pandemic. Interestingly, he shared, most were not depressed or anxious; rather, they were victims of circumstance, healthy people exhausted by how COVID-19 has affected their children, workplace and leisure time.
These origins of languishing make sense; I felt the pandemic gave me permission to spend days doing next to nothing - and that felt okay. I continued to languish after the pandemic, grieving the loss of my mother and dog. And I have not yet come to terms with being retired. I still feel like I should have a list of tasks to check off at the end of each day.
I expect I may not be the only one feeling this way. Some of you may also be languishing. How can we get back on track? Here are a few suggestions from the Psyche Guide:
Name and accept the feeling
Healing starts with recognition. By acknowledging what we are currently feeling and giving it a name, we can understand our situation better, enabling us to gain a certain reflective distance that helps us overcome it.
Accept the situation
It is also a good idea to accept our current situation. Whatever it is – it is what it is. Acceptance is the only rational response to things we cannot change. Learn to accept that which we cannot change. This is not passive submission – we should still identify what we can influence and focus our energy on improving that.
Find your flow
Hyken suggests we find our flow by undertaking an activity that absorbs our being. This is not necessarily about finding a new hobby or taking on a complicated endeavour. He states that the best way to combat these sinking emotions is to pursue an interest, new or old, where we can lose ourselves – an activity where our sense of time, place and being melts away.
Commit to long-term goals you are excited about
Nothing fills our lives with meaning better than having some larger goal we are committed to. What goals excite us? What legacy do we want to leave behind you? What do we want our grandchildren to remember about us? This suggestion is reminiscent of my last blog post, A Life Worth Dying From and one I will spend time reflecting on.
Now, there are suggestions offered by experts, but the words of poets and writers steer my boat better than any expert.
Parker J. Palmer spends a couple of weeks every year in the wilds of Northern Minnesota. In a Facebook post this week, he wrote,
I’m a lucky guy. I spent the last two weeks soaking up this and similar displays of natural beauty in the wilds of northern Minnesota. Water, forests, rock, skies and weathered wood—so simple, so reassuring, so peaceful, so healing. I have no great adventures to report, only the pearl of great price: a renewed spirit!
He includes an image of a Minnesota lake and asks us, What words rise up in you when you see this image? For him, those words include “keep things in perspective,” “there’s a hidden wholeness beneath the surface of our broken world,” and “all shall be well.” I think of the ocean the end of my street and how it soothes my soul. His words give me hope. They remind me that I do not need great adventures to renew my spirit.
And one last offering that caught my eye, this time from Gabrielle Roth, an American dancer and musician, who had an interest in shamanism. This is from a Facebook post shared by my friend, Deb.
In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask one of four questions.
When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop singing?
When did you stop being enchanted by stories?
When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
Where we have stopped dancing, singing, being enchanted by stories, or finding comfort in silence is where we have experience the loss of soul.
Dancing, singing, storytelling, and silence are the four universal healing salves.
- Gabrielle Roth
This is a reminder for me to dance and sing, to enjoy the silence, and most of all, to continue writing and listening to to stories.