The Gift of Boredom

Do you ever wish for something and then, when you finally get it, think—be careful what you pray and/or wish for?

I realized this week that was me over this last month.

“OMG, I would love a vacation or a break by myself. If I had time, I’d finally do all the things I’ve been procrastinating.”

And then it was here… for weeks.

At first, I thought: This is what I’ve been craving. The quiet. The space. The permission to just be without anyone else’s needs tugging at me. But once the silence settled in, I realized I had walked straight into something I didn’t expect. By the second night, I was alone in a beautiful house—feeling lost and not knowing what to do.

Without my family here, I couldn’t distract myself by doing things for their needs so my meaning would come from external forces. I realized I needed to go inside and find the meaning from me.

Arthur Brooks, in his work on happiness, says that one of the reasons we’re seeing such an explosion of depression and anxiety today is because people don’t know the meaning of their lives. He points to data showing this wasn’t the case for previous generations. And one of the hidden culprits? We’ve eliminated boredom.

How? That glowing rectangle in your pocket. The thing you pull out even when you’re just waiting 15 seconds for the light to change—or even sitting on the toilet. Every time you’re slightly alone and have the opportunity to be uncomfortable, you scroll. Swipe. Distract. Escape.

I know, because I do it too. That was the first layer of my realization… and then, with all this time, I had to face the other distractions too.

For me, it started with Instagram (I had to set a time limit on my phone when I realized how much I was scrolling). Then it was Netflix—a show I didn’t even like but kept watching anyway, until finally I just stopped. Sometimes it was opening a bottle of wine and turning up music.

All of it a way to quiet the monkey mind and make sure nothing unsettling crept in.

But here’s the truth boredom taught me: it isn’t peaceful at first. It’s raw. It’s where my mind threw the fears I’d rather not face. What if I made the wrong decision? What if I lose my job? What if I have to remake myself again? Without the distractions, I had no choice but to sit with them.

And something surprising happened. I was unconsciously competent in this month of peeling the onion. I found a way to reset my body to handle boredom and contemplation—and to let it not mean something is wrong, or that it is bad, just because a feeling is present in the moment.

Because in this space, I met who I REALLY am and what I REALLY want next. My values rose to the top and asked me to walk with them as the leader instead of just following the easiest fun thing to do. And knowing that has helped me hold joy in my heart even when I am feeling alone. It also helped me not be scared of the unknown on the other side of this decision to not move states because one of my top values is my family and I get to live that through this discomfort.

This week, I felt the weight of it even more as social media filled with heavy news and hard stories. Instead of numbing, I picked up a pen and paper and began journaling my thoughts, fears, inspirations—handling what I couldn’t before, even those 15 minutes in my head without my phone or radio. Brooks promises your most interesting ideas will come. And I’ve discovered he’s right.

When I stopped fighting the boredom, the quiet started opening something deeper. I began noticing moments of beauty I would have scrolled past. Ideas I had been too busy to hear. Questions that pointed toward purpose and deeper meaning.

Boredom wasn’t a dead end—it is a doorway to peace, meaning, and a truer version of myself. Which is the lesson of transformation everywhere - whether in home or work life - the hard uncomfortable pause is where we meet what’s next.