I moped for an entire week. I rolled out of bed at the last possible
second every morning, flirted with “acceptably late” every day, and refused
Rachael’s pleas to go to lunch with her.
I was so relieved when Saturday rolled around again. I slept in super late, lazed in bed for way
longer than was socially acceptable, and then managed to make it down to the
couch, where I spent the afternoon.
I got hungry eventually and
surveyed the kitchen. I’d never made it
to the grocery store. I’d thought about
it a couple times, but then I remembered sobbing in my car in the parking lot
and decided against it. Wrinkling my
nose at the lack of options, I pulled a can of soup from the depths of the
pantry and dumped it into a bowl. The
bowl went in the microwave, because even heating it up on the stove seemed
daunting.
I was just making myself
comfortable on the couch again when someone knocked on the door. Sneakily, I moved the curtains as little as possible
to peak out. Kelly and Erica were
standing on my front porch. With a sigh,
I set my bowl of lava hot soup on the end table and got up to answer the door.
I knew better than to protest their
presence, and to be honest, I was kind of glad for the company—as long as they
didn’t try to make me leave the house.
Not today. I pulled the door open
and stood aside as they came in, stamping the snow off their boots. “We miss you,” Erica said, looking worried.
“And we brought pizza. And wine!” Kelly said, grinning at me.
Despite my commitment to being a
miserable human being over the last week, I couldn’t help but return her
smile. I hadn’t realized how much I’d
missed them until they were there. “If
you would have called, I would have at least showered,” I said, suddenly aware
that I was still in my pajamas.
“If we would have called, you would
have told us not to come and then ignored us when we knocked,” Kelly replied,
and she was probably right.
“At least let me change,” I said,
heading upstairs. Erica and Kelly were
already walking into the kitchen and I hurried to my room. I ditched my baggy flannel pants with the
hole in the crotch and pulled on a comfy pair of yoga pants. A little deodorant and a clean hoodie was
good enough for Kelly and Erica. I ran a
comb through my hair and pulled it up into a messy bun, then went back
downstairs.
Kelly and Erica were sitting on my
couch with wine and pizza, and there was a plate and glass for me on the coffee
table. They had made themselves at home and
were flipping through Netflix options, arguing good-naturedly. We finally settled on Ferris Bueller’s Day
Off, because when is that movie not perfect?
They didn’t say a word to me about
my self-imposed isolation. They didn’t
scold me, or pity me, or make me promise to go out with them next weekend. They just hung out, fed me, and watched
stupid movies with me all evening. It was exactly what I needed, and it was perfect.
Almost 3 bottles of wine in, I
suddenly declared, “I need a hobby.”
“A hobby,” Kelly replied
skeptically.
“A hobby,” I repeated. We all looked at each other and started
giggling. “Seriously, though. All I do is work and go on terrible dates. And hang out with you guys, but you have
husbands and stuff.”
“So?” Erica said indignantly. “That doesn’t make us less fun.”
“Well, actually…” I teased her,
ducking the balled-up napkin she sent flying in my direction. “But I need something to do that I
enjoy. Something that brings me joy.”
Kelly looked legitimately concerned
now. “Have you been reading self-help
books again, Jenna?”
I rolled my eyes. “No!
But don’t you think I could do better than working, going on meaningless
dates, and moping around for a week at a time?”
“That’s a stupid question,” she
said.
“Then support me in my quest to
find a hobby,” I instructed her. I looked
at Erica, who nodded her support with a mouthful of pizza.
“What do you want to do?” she
asked, after she had swallowed.
I frowned. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I…I don’t really even know what I like to
do.” Kevin and I had played tennis,
hiked, camped, fished, gone wine tasting…but now that I really thought about
it, those were all things that he had
originally suggested. I had enjoyed
doing them to spend time with him, but I wasn’t sure I actually liked doing any
of those things.
“Oh!” Erica exclaimed, startling me
and making me knock into my wine glass.
Kelly caught it, shook her head, and moved it safely out of reach of my
flailing arms. “You should do a thing
where you try something new every week until you find something you really
like!”
“You can’t decide you like
something after doing it once,” Kelly argued.
“Well, you can find out if you like
it enough to try doing again,” Erica insisted.
I held up my hands. “I don’t know if I want to do anything that
regimented, or whatever,” I said. “I
just want to try a few things and figure out what I like to do.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Erica
said encouragingly. She glared at Kelly,
who nodded quickly.
“You know I’ll support whatever you
want to do,” she said, and though she was completely skeptical, her words were
sincere.
Kelly and Erica and I stayed up
until the wee hours of the morning, and then we crashed hard, right in my
living room. As determined as I had been
to be grumpy and miserable, it felt so good to spend time with my friends
again.
Over the next few weeks, I spent a
lot of time searching for new potential hobbies. I combed through the community education
offerings, deciding I’d love to learn French, become a photographer, and paint
pottery. A Google search brought options
such as rock climbing, dance classes for adults, and various community
meet-ups. But when it came to actually
pulling the trigger on something, I was stuck.
The idea of actually going to something like this alone was terrifying
to me. I was convinced that everyone in
attendance would arrive with a friend except me, and I’d spend the entire time
completely alone in a crowded room.
I was at lunch with Rachael one day
and feeling like sharing, so I filled her in on my quest and my conundrum. “I’ll try a few things with you,” she
offered. “I’m not interested in painting
mugs and stuff, but learning a language or rock climbing might be interesting!”
“What about dance?” I asked. A local studio offered ballet, tap, and jazz
classes for adults, and they offered a free “trial” class to anyone that was
interested in trying it out.
She wrinkled her nose, but then
said, “I’ve always wanted to try rock climbing, so if you come do that with me,
I’ll try a dance class with you.”
“Deal!” I said, excited.
The next challenge was making our
schedules line up. Coordinating it with
the open intro to climbing classes at a local climbing gym was even
tougher. We finally found one that
worked for both of us in a few weeks.
Then we picked a day to go to the dance class together. I promised to
call that evening to register us for it.
When we headed back to work, I felt
better than I had in a month. For some
reason, this signified truly moving on for me.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was doing something
that was 100% for me, and it felt good.