The Beauty Of Boredom

By Erin Deborah Waks

I am rarely, if ever, bored. I work a full-time job (from the office, I’ll add, and never from the comfort of my own home). I write almost every day. I read prolifically - at least a book a week. I socialise on too many evenings. I have a plethora of hobbies ranging from painting and Pilates to running, bakery hopping, singing, cooking and shopping. I love to watch movies and, occasionally, even a good old reality TV show.

So imagine my surprise, then, when during a week I’d booked off work, I found myself in that same mopey mood my 15-year-old self experienced during those elongated school holidays when I’d moan loudly, ‘Mum, I’m booooooored.’

I spend so much time running from boredom. As a child, it was a relatively common and banal state to be in - without the independence I have now, the antidote was often something as dull as playing board games with my brothers or, worse, unloading the dishwasher. I think as adults, many of us - myself included - have become absolutely terrified of being bored because it’s so easily avoided. We have agency to dictate our own social calendars, don’t rely on mum or dad to take us to the gym or pool or wherever our heart desires, and have far more interests than we did when school occupied most of our lives.

I, for one, have often associated boredom with a sort of existential panic about wasting time. It’s complete with catapulting questions including, what’s the point of life? I (wrongly) believe boredom equates to anxiety, loneliness and meaninglessness. So, I avoid it. I fill my working hours with projects and side hustles, my leisure time with hobbies and exercise, my ‘dead time’ (commuting and waiting) with books and my social time with friends, activities, connection, fun. 

The reality is, I have so little free time it’s really rather easy to fill it all.

Despite the voice in my head telling me, ‘Erin, you’re not even burnt out. Cancel the week off. You don’t need it!’ I do know better. The purpose of those beautiful 25 days of annual leave is precisely that - to avoid said burnout. 

So take a week off I did. The first few days were filled in a typically Erin fashion. I went thrift shopping with my brother. I went for walks and coffee dates. I scheduled every necessary appointment - doctor, dentist, optician, hairdresser, sports masseuse, you name it. I spent a day in Hampstead with my best friend. I did Pilates, ran many kilometres and visited art galleries.

And then I woke up on the fifth day and realised I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. So I made toast and coffee and stayed there until I’d read a whole novel cover to cover.

I moped around the flat for a bit. I made lunch and ate it by myself. I left the dishes for later. 

I thought about getting dressed, but decided against it. I watched Married At First Sight, horizontally, instead.

I made more coffee.

I got bored of watching TV. Bored of reading. I scrolled through instagram.

I thought I’d go for a run, but I didn’t feel like it. So I lay on my bed for an hour, doing nothing.

I baked cinnamon buns. Then I baked focaccia bread. I had another cup of coffee.

I sat on the sofa, staring out of the window. Felt a bit bored. Felt a bit lonely. It passed.

The next day was spent much in the same fashion. I thought I would feel like I’d wasted my time. I didn’t.

On the third day like this, I had the spark of an idea in the middle of the afternoon. I threw on some clothes and ran down the street to my favourite bakery, ordered a cappuccino and sat down. I started writing. I didn’t move - or stop - for three hours.

And through it all, I realised that in my pursuit of constant inspiration, stimulation and connection, I am missing out on the fundamental thing that actually allows us the space, energy and need to create, to produce, to find meaning. 

Boredom is not only healthy, it is essential. Boredom is what breeds creativity, because it’s precisely the thing that makes you need it.