[ahn-wee, ahn-wee; French ahn-nwee]
a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom
People like to give you advice on lots of things when you reach adulthood – bills, marriage, loans, credit, the right mattresses, buying organic, raising non asshole kids, etc. But the one thing people forget to warn you about is the never ending, all consuming, soul killing ennui.
Oh sure, I’ve felt it in my teens, you say. But you’re wrong. It’s not the same restless boredom you feel when you’re sixteen and listening to that Garbage CD and wondering what else is out there besides feeling like you don’t belong to the Grunges, the Freaks, the Preppies, the Ultimate Players, or the Geeks. It’s not the same thing as looking out your high school class window during Biology and seeing Brett kiss Gretchen and wishing you were anywhere but here. That was just teenage angst. Ennui is entirely different.
Ennu is being so in love with your kids that you can’t imagine life without them, but at the same time imagining hopping on a plane and running away to a remote island to work as a bartender and just talk to adults all day long just do you wouldn’t have to answer another question about bugs or change another diaper.
Ennui is loving your husband but at the same time hating him. You love him for all right reasons – he’s a great dad, he provides for the family, he’s responsible, he’s smart, he’s dependable, he’s nice to your mom. But you also hate him for not trimming his nose hairs, complaining about your dinner, telling the same story over and over again, leaving his socks on the floor, making a jab about your love handles, that thing he said two years ago that you just can’t forget…
Ennui is wanting to go out and paint the town red (okay how lame is that saying? What am I, 75?) but ending up staying home because you know your kid is going to wake you up at 6:30 and you need a full 8 hours sleep.
Ennui is knowing that even if you wanted to go out, you’d have no one to go out with because all your friends are boring ass moms like you.
I mean, how can you be so happy with your life yet feel so dissatisfied? The French have this saying for it. I wonder what the American saying is? Dissolution? Dissatisfaction? Boredom? Somehow none of these words feel as fitting as ennui.