Ever have those days where you’re not sad, but you’re not exactly jumping for joy either? That was me last year, caught in this weird limbo of Languishing and Flow —or rather, stuck in the “languishing” part. I’d built this perfect little to-don’t list—don’t scroll social media, don’t check my phone in bed, don’t flip on the TV without a plan. Rules to keep me sharp, you know? But then, boom, I’m up past midnight, thumb sore from doomscrolling, playing online Scrabble like it’s the Olympics, and watching trash TV I didn’t even enjoy. Next morning, I’d wake up foggy, muttering, “Tonight, bed by 10.” Spoiler: didn’t happen.
It went on for weeks. Me, the so-called motivation geek, no less—couldn’t figure out why I was breaking my own rules. I wasn’t depressed; I still had hope. Not burned out; I had energy. Not lonely; my family was right there. I just felt… blah. Aimless. Like someone dimmed the lights on my joy. Then it hit me—I’d read about this. It’s called languishing. That empty, stuck-in-the-mud feeling where you’re coasting through life, peering out at the world like it’s behind a smudged window.
I started wondering how many people know that vibe. Maybe you do too, especially lately. It’s not just a me-thing—it’s a human thing. Languishing and flow are like two sides of a coin, and I was definitely on the “meh” side. During the pandemic, it crept in slow. At first, we were all scared, grieving, isolated. But as the months dragged on, that sharp pain dulled into this chronic blah. Every day felt like a rerun of the last. Groundhog Day, but with worse Wi-Fi.
I even wrote about it once, calling languishing the neglected middle child of mental health. People latched onto it—celebrities, random folks on Twitter, even royalty. Guess there’s something freeing about naming that “ugh” feeling. It explained why, even after vaccines, I couldn’t get hyped for the future. Why my wife knew every line of National Treasure like it was her job. Why I was revenge-scrolling at 2 a.m., chasing some spark in a dull day.
Here’s the kicker, though—what pulled me out wasn’t some grand life fix. It was Mario Kart. Yep, a goofy Nintendo game. Back when COVID first hit, my family was cooped up, kids on Zoom school, driving us all nuts. One day, my sister—who’s halfway across the country—suggested we play Mario Kart online together. We fired up the video call, picked our characters, and started racing. Soon, it was our daily thing. I’d laugh my head off as my kids pelted me with virtual shells, or when I’d nail a sneaky shortcut past my brother-in-law. After a couple weeks, I noticed I wasn’t so “meh” anymore.
That’s when I realized I’d stumbled into flow. You know, that sweet spot where you’re so into something that time just vanishes? Languishing and flow don’t mix—flow kicks the blah right out. For me, it was the game’s magic combo: nailing a tricky move (mastery), focusing hard to dodge those red shells (mindfulness), and making my family giggle across state lines (mattering). Suddenly, I had something to look forward to. My kids would wake up asking, “When’s Mario Kart time?” Even my wife got in on the trash talk.
If you’re curious about this flow stuff, grab Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi. It’s the OG book on getting in the zone, and it’s packed with real-life ways to shake off that languishing fog. Totally worth a read.
Funny thing is, flow doesn’t need to be serious. I mean, stacking M&M’s could do it if you’re into that—I saw a guy on YouTube try it once, and he was living. For me, it was Mario Kart’s tiny wins, like landing a banana peel just right. It wasn’t about productivity; it was joy. Connection. My sister and I are tighter now than ever, all because of those silly races.
Languishing and flow keep popping up in life, pandemic or not. Research says languishing messes with your focus, dims your drive, even sets you up for bigger slumps if you let it fester. But here’s the good news—you can nudge yourself toward flow. Admit when you’re “meh.” Ditch the fake “I’m great!” when someone asks how you are. Then find your Mario Kart—something that clicks for you. Cooking? Painting? Chasing your dog around the yard? Whatever it is, protect it. Give it your full attention. Let it matter to someone else too.
So yeah, I’m still that guy with the to-don’t list, but now I’ve got a to-do: chase flow every day. Languishing and flow are always duking it out, but I’m learning to tip the scales. What’s your move?
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