When Boredom Became a Gift

When Boredom Became a Gift

Boredom used to be The Manager's ultimate enemy. These days, I seek it out.

I did everything I could to eradicate even the possibility of it—for me and my children. If someone was bored, it meant I had failed. Failed at my perfect plan to keep everyone happy and entertained all the time. Boredom was the signal of total failure.

Why the shift? Because I discovered something unexpected in those uncomfortable moments of stillness.

The Panic

The Manager is that part of me that's been running my life with endless planning and worry and need for control (read my first post here). When I let myself be bored, The Manager's voice becomes deafening.

You can't just sit and stare. Plan something. Organize something. Tidy. Move. Research something. Check the news. Buy something online. Watch a series. Check social media. Do something!?!

My whole body goes into panic if I'm not doing something "productive." The discomfort is almost unbearable at first—this screaming feeling that I should be moving, consuming, accomplishing.

These days, I find it fascinating to watch this pattern. To remain in that uncomfortable space instead of immediately escaping it.

Because when all the chatter dies down, something interesting happens.

What Emerges

When I'm not constantly consuming information or doing things, when I just sit with myself, my inner voice starts to become clear.

What do I actually want to do? What is calling to me? What will bring me joy or peace in this moment?

Before, there was never a second where I wasn't doing something. No space to let myself truly feel or find answers within myself. Everything came from outside—experts in various fields telling me the "best" way or the "right" way to do everything. And I listened, trying to puzzle everyone's opinions together and force them into my life with varying success.

I didn't realize I had an inner compass that could give me moment-to-moment guidance about what is right for me. Not the generic lists on social media or what someone else is preaching about. But what is best for me, right now, in this specific moment.

Creativity Born from Boredom

I see this most clearly in my 4-year-old daughter.

Every time she's bored, there's grumbling at first. The Manager in me wants to jump in with suggestions, come up with activities, fix the problem—because her boredom feels like proof that I've failed at providing a stimulating existence for her.

But if I can just wait, if I can resist the urge to rescue her from the discomfort, something magical happens. Her own inspiration and creativity emerge. The grumbling transforms into building, creating, imagining. She finds her own way.

This is what I'm learning to do for myself too. Because I have noticed that my own creativity is also born from boredom.

What My Inner Voice Actually Says

When I sit with the boredom, when I let The Manager's panic wash over me without acting on it, my inner voice starts speaking. And what it says often surprises me.

The house might be messy, but we spent the evening playing. I might not have had 8 hours of sleep, but I had a deep talk with my husband. The children might not have played outside "enough," but I got some rest on the sofa. We might be a bit cold, but we got to play outside in the first snow. I might be "behind" on laundry, but we went on a forest hike instead.

My inner voice doesn't sound like The Manager at all. The Manager speaks in shoulds and productivity and meeting external standards. My inner voice speaks in what actually matters—connection, presence, joy, rest, aliveness.

It's not that the laundry doesn't matter or the mess doesn't exist. It's that my inner compass knows what matters *most* in any given moment. And that's never what The Manager would choose.

Floating Downstream

Life feels different now. Like I'm floating with the stream instead of forcing myself to paddle upstream all the time.

For the longest time, I believed that if something felt easy, it couldn't be right. That discipline meant struggle. That pushing myself hard was the only way to live responsibly. Following my own inner guidance felt irresponsible—like I'd end up lying on the sofa all day eating ice cream if I just "did what I wanted."

But I'm learning that's a false choice entirely.

Because I do everything that needs to be done. The laundry gets washed, the children are cared for, the household runs. The difference is I'm doing it all without the force, the shoulds, the suffering, the constant worry that I'm not doing enough or in the most perfect way.

I choose what feels most alive in each moment. What brings the most connection, joy, or rest. And somehow, that always ends up being exactly what was needed.

The Manager would have me believe that following my inner voice is indulgent, irresponsible, lazy. But what I've discovered is the opposite: when I listen to what's actually calling to me, when I choose connection over productivity, presence over planning, rest when I need rest and play when I need play—I show up more fully for everything and everyone in my life.

Boredom isn't the enemy anymore. It's the doorway. The quiet space where The Manager's shoulds fade away and my own knowing can finally be heard.

This is what it means to be alive—not managing every moment, but trusting the flow, following what calls to me, choosing what brings joy. Not because it's the easy way out, but because it's true.

What is your inner voice waiting to tell you?