During a roundtable interview for the position of Executive Editor for my campus newspaper, I was asked by one of the administrators how I would be able to manage all the stresses of my job.
As a nervous and pretty inexperienced interviewee, I responded “OK, I’m going to say something that I haven’t really admitted before, because I’m someone who complains a lot about how busy I am, but I actually really like being stressed. It just motivates me and...makes me feel important.”
Being busy or stressed is a status symbol for many -- the college student boasts their fifth cup of coffee with pride, the professional with two jobs carries their four hours of sleep on their face like a ribbon, the socialite with engagements booked every day of the summer flashes their calendar like a diploma.
Somewhere along the way, we developed a “no days off” mentality and began to feel that we should always be moving, doing, going, even to the point of mental, physical, emotional and spiritual exhaustion.
Obviously, I’ve fallen into this line of thought, because despite my being a homebody, I can’t help but get the nagging feeling that I should be doing more after a day spent recording Snapchat videos in bed.
As busy bodies, boredom has become our worst enemy. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no life, no influence, no status, no “importance.”
Due to the Louisiana floods last week, my family and I evacuated our home and were transported by several means (boat, truck, bus) to a nearby shelter. Somewhere in the craziness that was checking in, getting blankets, pillows, clothes, food and other items, I thought about the rising waters, the uncertainty of when we could go home, and how impossibly bored I would be in the days that followed.
In my case, evacuating was a preventative measure, so as to not be trapped for an unknown number of days with no access to food, water or information. Though there was speculation, I was confident that the waters would not reach my second-floor apartment.
While others were grieving the loss of their homes, vehicles, precious belongings, and in some cases, loved ones, my biggest concern was whether or not I’d be able to catch the first airing of Bachelor In Paradise.
I realized, rather quickly, that I was damn lucky that my most pressing issue was lack of entertainment.
Boredom, as much as we’ve grown to hate it, is something to be grateful for. It provides opportunity for restoration for recuperation. Boredom means opportunities -- you have nothing tying you up (or down) and are able to embark on a new adventure.
It means you’re not stressed, or worried, apprehensive, or scared. For many of us, boredom means a rare moment where we’re free of anxiety, sadness, anger, and physical or mental illness. You’re free of stress, worry, apprehension or fear.
You aren’t sick to your stomach wondering if you’ll have a home to go to, or cursing yourself for not having renter’s insurance, or begging strangers to use their telephones so that you can find your family.
Be grateful for boredom -- it’s one of the rare moments that life slows down enough to say “rest, you’ve earned your peace.”
