What To Do When Things Fall Away
Conversations you have at funerals.
I’m so glad you’re here! I’m Sarah Von Bargen, a long-time online writer, marketing consultant, and coach. Every week we’ll be exploring ideas around spending our time, money, and energy on purpose + how to build a life we love that doesn’t make us broke or exhausted.
Last year I attended my first funeral for a friend who died of natural causes.
Standing around afterward, drinking our weak funeral coffee and looking at photos, we shared stories about our friend. We talked about her dress at the last kickball prom and what a devoted dog mom she’d been. Her quick smile, her curly hair that was somehow never frizzy, and how she’d show up to every party she was invited to.
One of her childhood friends said something that I’ve been thinking about ever since. She said, essentially, this:
Most of us spend our 20s accruing things, adding to our lives
We make tons of new friends - in our college dorms, on the softball team, at that summer job waiting tables. We learn new skills, try on different jobs, date lots of people. Our calendars are full. Our brains are full. There’s always something to do, somewhere to go, someone to hang out with.
Sure, it’s a stressful time - we might be broke, we’re not sure if we’ll ever find a career or a partner - but we don’t lack for things to do or people to do them with.
If we’re lucky, things level out during our 30s
If we’re fortunate, somewhere in our 30s we find our people. Maybe we’ve found a partner (or decided we’re happier solo.) Maybe we’ve started a family (or decided we’re more interested in raising pets or plants.) We’ve found a place we want to live longer term - whether that’s a city, a neighborhood, or house we’ve bought. If we’re lucky, we’ve found a career path we like well-enough that pays the bills.
Things are - hopefully - stable. They might even be Goldilocks-like “just right.”
In our 40s, things start to fall away
We start to attend friends’ funerals. Our parents might die. Our aunts and uncles might die. Our friends move to the suburbs with their kids or get a Serious Promotion and are too busy to hang out. Or we’re the ones who move to the suburbs with kids and get too busy to hang out!
We might be too busy for the hobbies we once loved. Or our knees and ACLs don’t love those hobbies anymore. The lawn needs to be mowed, the college applications need to be overseen, those very important doctor’s appointments need to be made.
And it’s easy to look up one day and realize that many of the good things in our lives - the big group of friends, the fulfilling hobbies, the three-generation family gatherings - have fallen away.
“That’s where I am right now,” said the friend-of-a-friend at this funeral.
“So I’m making a very active decision to fill my life back up. I don’t want to die with an empty life.”
Now, the title of this post would indicate that I have some clever, five-point framework to help you do this. It would indicate that I have this figured out.
I do not!
But ever since I had this conversation I’ve been so much more aware of this phenomenon. I notice the simultaneous overstimulation (so many meetings and house projects and adult responsibilities!) and understimulation (scrolling and meeting people for dinner and having to make plans six weeks out) of mid-life.
So I’m doing my best to fill my life back up, to replace the hobbies I abandoned and the friends who moved away. (Or revitalize those friendships via voice notes and trips.)
I’m attending (almost) everything I’m invited to. I’m going to gatherings full of people I don’t know, who are different from my “usual” friend group. I’m hosting the yearly block party even when only 30% of the block attends.
I’m prioritizing seeing friends and family even when it’s a bit inconvenient or stressful or not-super-exciting.
I’m trying to pick life back up as it falls away.
Have you experienced this? And if you’ve successfully “filled your life back up,” please tell us how you did it in the comments!
P.S. Related: I love you too much to just grab coffee.
Sarah, so sorry for your friend, and so lovely you are honoring her in this way.
For me, everything fell away on February 6, 2016. I sneezed, one of my vertebrae in my neck displaced, and I didn't turn my head for a year. My body unraveled, one system after another going into dysfunction. I haven't driven more than an hour, gone on a walk or been out of severe pain since, let alone danced/skiied/done pottery, like I used to.
I was 33. Sometimes I feel 80, sometimes I still feel early 30s, somehow I feel sorta 40ish, but not with the usual trappings of mortgage and steady job, made impossible by disability.
I had to fill my life with new things. Hikes turned into tiny outings outside, sitting on benches and watching birds. Going out with friends turned to morning teas and coffees, the time of day I feel the best now. I lost a lot of people, usually just to my inability to keep up all my friendships, and I gained a few true-blue ride or dies. I filed my work down to essentials.
I had to do a ton of therapy, because there wasn't room for the luxury of carrying past trauma on top of so much physical pain.
But before all that, I resisted. I *tried* to go on little hikes anyway, tried to make it out with friends, tried to keep working full time, and it spectacularly failed.
I say when things fall away, let them. Let new things fall into place.
I went through my "fall away period" in 2016-18 (mid-30s) when I went through my divorce, got laid off, and had a series of debilitating injuries/medical debt. The pandemic was really the first time that I was really able to pick things back up - the things that were available, that is.
Now that I'm approaching my mid-40s, I'm seeing things a little differently. My issue is that there's just too much of everything I want to do, see, and experience all the time and I have to be really discerning about not burning myself out in the process. I could take myself to a different protest, volunteer for a different mission I feel passionate about, or work on any of the projects I've got going, professional or otherwise, every night of the week. I believe it was Mark Manson who once said "If it's not a fuck yes, it's a no."
Here are some of my "fuck yes" things:
*Sunday morning gathering at my church (similar to UU but not officially affiliated)
*Brunch, a hike, and watching shows guilt-free with my partner afterwards
*Tuesday evening gathering with progressive-minded folks in my small town
*Therapy for myself and my kids
*Volunteering and organizing for the pro-public education PAC I helped found
*Any opportunities I get to travel
Things that aren't a "fuck yes"' and therefore are subject to my energy level/weather/mood:
*going out to dinner with family/friends
*34579 political marches because crowds overwhelm me
*other church activities - I love the people but it's too much back-and-forth on a weeknight
*side hustles and freelance projects
*trivia nights, networking events, and any other forced extroverting
Yes, it's important to live an active life - but as Sarah teaches us to "put our money where our happy is" it's just as imperative to "put your time where your happy is" too!