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For the past several months, I’ve found it challenging to respond to the usual question, “How are you?” Should I express that I’m overwhelmed by the fatigue of the pandemic and the constant moral dilemmas we face, leaving me wanting to curl up and cry? Or should I share my gratitude for our health, the safety of my family, my stable job, and my children’s happiness, which could also bring me to tears? Or perhaps I should just admit that most days find me entangled in a mix of loneliness, frustration, gratitude, fear, exhaustion, and confusion about my life’s direction?
I suspect that isn’t the response most people are looking for, so I often default to a simple, “I’m fine… I guess.”
But deep down, I know the truth — much like you do. I’m not truly fine. And I suspect you might not be either. Just because we’re not in crisis mode and can count our blessings doesn’t mean we’re genuinely thriving.
Here’s the raw truth: I feel a lot like Eeyore these days. I’m not in a terrible place, but I’m not in a good one either. I’m not experiencing the same level of stress as six months ago when I was plagued by headaches and jaw pain from grinding my teeth. I’m feeling more optimistic than I did a couple of months ago, yet I still feel… off.
I’m unproductive, unmotivated, and lethargic. I find myself sighing often, my response to inquiries reduced to, “Who cares?”
Until recently, I thought I was alone in this feeling. But it’s not just me. Adam Grant’s viral article in the New York Times, “There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing,” revealed that many are in the same boat. This article has gained traction because it resonates with so many.
Grant describes languishing as “a sense of stagnation and emptiness,” a feeling of getting through life while looking at it through a foggy windshield. It may be the prevailing emotion of 2021.
That’s not to say that some people aren’t genuinely struggling or that others aren’t thriving. However, many of us find ourselves languishing — neither truly depressed nor truly happy, just… blah. Or maybe blegh, depending on the day.
Languishing manifests as decreased motivation, lack of focus, and dwindling productivity. It’s the sighs, the blahs, and the who-cares. It’s emotional confusion and anxiety about having hopes.
There are reasons for optimism: vaccines are widely available, and many of my friends have received at least one dose. Even CDC Director Rochelle Walensky noted a “hopeful decline” in daily cases.
Still, after nearly 15 months of grim news, anything that isn’t dread feels strange. Looking forward to something fun, like a family vacation or a BBQ with friends, feels uncomfortable and like a setup for disappointment. Should I feel hopeful or remain on high alert? It feels like I’m being gaslit.
So, we’re all feeling it — we’re languishing — but what can we do about it?
The first step is to acknowledge it. Instead of automatically responding with “fine” or “good,” we should share how we truly feel when asked. This shift could counteract the pervasive toxic positivity that pressures us to be upbeat. Grant also suggests carving out small moments of “flow” in our day, where we can lose ourselves in meaningful tasks, whether it’s organizing the garage, solving a crossword puzzle, or caring for our garden.
Recognizing both our individual and collective struggles holds real power. As Grant states, “Not depressed doesn’t mean you’re not struggling.”
I’m going to admit it: I am struggling. While it’s less intense than before, each day still feels like a slog. However, knowing there’s a term for it — languishing — and that others share this existential Eeyore-like feeling brings a bit of comfort. Maybe it does for you too.