Sitting Disabilities and the Curse of Boring

Before I developed one, I never realized how quickly sitting disabilities (or any disability, really) could make you a pariah. Sure, there are obvious reasons. If you can’t drive, it’s pretty hard to meet up with people outside your house. And if you can’t sit down, movies, restaurants, museums, and other public places are automatically less fun.

But when I got my sitting disability, I realized there was another reason I was now no fun to hang out with: I became a boring person.

I used to have plenty of hobbies and interests. I was a drama nut, and I loved watching and performing in plays and musicals. I was a writer, and part of a few writers’ groups. And I loved pole dancing so much I installed a pole in my apartment.

Once my sitting disability appeared, though, these interests were much harder to pursue. Plays weren’t as much fun if I couldn’t sit in the audience, and I would be awfully limited performance-wise if I couldn’t sit down for a scene. I tried keeping on with my writer’s group, but my hovering presence weirded people out. And since the twisting motions of pole dance aggravated my back, I gave it up.

At the same time, I discovered that walking and stretching were the best therapies for me, and that a 2-3 hour walk and 20-minute stretch session were optimal. That was, as you can imagine, quite a time suck. My only other “hobby” was going to medical appointments and researching medical issues, which hardly makes for stimulating dinner conversation.

I did my best to work within my new limitations. I started listening to audiobooks on my walks so that at least I could keep my mind busy. I started cooking as a hobby, because it was something I could easily do standing up.

My fiance (now husband) and I started hosting parties at his place or mine. This allowed me to socialize without worrying about how to travel. And since there was always some cooking or tidying up to do, I had a great excuse to keep moving. (Standing around is killer, moving around is great.)

I’m someone who always needs a project, though, and I can only eat so much food. Since I had moved to the Garden State three years ago, I had often wished to know more about the curious plants and trees that sprang up vigorously without any coaxing. I came from the prairies of North Dakota, where trees need considerable nurturing and the only plants that really love the short summers are grasses.

So I tried to identify all the interesting trees and weeds, and read up on foraging. I learned to make a nice salad out of lamb’s quarters and lady’s thumb, picked the mulberries that grew like weeds on the edges of our apartment complex, and found out that black nightshade is considerably tastier and less dangerous than the name suggests.

In a move that shocked my North Dakota relatives, I also signed up for a community garden plot. When I was younger, I strongly gravitated toward any farm task that could be performed indoors. Anything that involved dirt or bugs I considered a little too intense.

The foraging and gardening hobbies dovetailed nicely with my existing cooking hobby, although I realized that my free-time activities now revolved almost entirely around food. My husband, at least, did not complain.

Just when I was beginning to hit my stride with my new hobbies, I upended myself again and moved in with my husband in Newark. As you might expect, Newark is less a garden paradise and more a scene of urban decay.

I expected to find a community garden plot anyway — they do exist here — but as I write this we’re in the middle of a coronavirus epidemic so going outside at all is not particularly feasible.

How will I fill my time? That’s still something I’m working out. On the plus side, my new treadmill desk does allow me to pursue some hobbies that are usually sedentary. Writing, for instance, is back on the table. And like many in this confined time, I am becoming a sourdough aficionado. (I have an quid pro quo relationship with my starter. I feed it, it feeds me.)

Is this enough to save me from the curse of boring? I don’t know yet. I do know I’ll find something, or go crazy trying.