learning to be bored again

a reflection on stillness and slowing down

Last weekend, all my friends were busy and I found myself with a weekend and no plans. After doing things for so long, this made me panic. Not the rational kind of panic—like something was actually wrong—but that quiet, nagging voice: You’re wasting time. Everyone else is doing something. You should be doing something too.

This feeling has been coming up a lot lately. And I’m starting to realize it’s not really about the weekend at all.

Lately I’ve been getting this feeling a lot. Now that I’m done recruiting, I found myself to have a lot more free time on my hands. For months, my life had structure. I would be focused on school, or applying for jobs, prepping for interviews. I knew what I was supposed to be doing at any given moment. And when I wasn’t doing it, I felt guilty. There was always more I could be doing. The irony is that I spent all that time dreaming about what I’d do when it was over. When I could just exist without the constant pressure.

And now that I’m here? I don’t know what to do with myself.

Most of my friends don’t live around me anymore. Different cities, different time zones, different phases of time. The spontaneous hangouts we used to have don’t happen as easily now. The friends I have in the area don’t live near me, so coordinating schedules is more difficult. So I’m alone more often than I used to be. And I’m realizing: I don’t actually know how to be alone without feeling like I’m wasting time.

When I have a free Saturday with no plans I immediately thought: What should I do? Where should I go? I feel like I’m supposed to be filling it with something impressive. A day trip, a new hobby, a social event.

But in many ways, this slower pace has been healing for me. I’ve spent several years constantly in motion and finally, I have time for myself. Life is quieter now. I found myself going back to old childhood hobbies, like reading and writing.

Not reading for knowledge or self-improvement, but for fun. I’d forgotten how nice it feels to get lost in a story.

I’m writing again too. I used to write all the time when I was younger. I used to love imagining worlds and characters, and I wrote stories. Eventually I stopped, when writing became associated with school and productivity. Now I write for the purpose of reflecting. I’ve realized my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. Weeks pass and I can’t quite remember what I did or how I felt, and I want to be able to look back at each period of my life and know exactly what I was experiencing.

I also go on long walks with no destination, mostly just to wander and be with myself. Sometimes I stop by a farmers market and look at the flowers, or step into a secondhand bookstore and browse for nothing in particular.

I’m learning that I don’t always need big plans to have a good day. One afternoon, I lay in the park with a book and felt the sun on my skin. I could hear snippets of conversation, the soft thwack of tennis balls, laughter floating in the air. And it was really, really nice.

I know this quiet season will not last forever, so I’m taking it day by day and enjoying it while it lasts. Boredom is where I find myself again. It’s where my brain gets to wander, where creativity comes from, where I remember what I actually think and feel and want when no one’s telling me what to do. Soon, life will get busy again. But when it does, I hope I still remember how to be still.