My brother was destructive.
My sister repeatedly ran off to talk to strangers.
However, when I ask my parents what the most challenging aspect of raising me was, they’ll hesitate for a moment, and then reply “You were a really easy kid, and a lot of fun, but…you were continually proclaiming ‘I’m bored. What can I do?’ and it drove us up the wall.”
I was a good kid, but it took a lot to engage and entertain me. Amusement was always short-lived, and I wasn’t satisfied unless I was learning, creating, or communicating. I would work on jigsaw puzzles, read, watch nature documentaries, do homework, build furniture forts, climb trees with friends, and play on the computer for hours at a time, and then suddenly report my overwhelming and unquenchable boredom.
Nothing held my interest for long, and there was always something more to discover and achieve. I had an expansive imagination and unrealistic plans and dreams. Life was this huge adventure, just waiting to awaken…and it would, just as soon as I grew up. I feel like not much has changed.
On my tenth birthday, I wrote in a little journal, “Only six more years until I can drive!” As much as I enjoyed the freedom of being a kid, I could not wait to grow up because of all the endless possibilities I imagined. One day, I’ll be able to have as many dogs as I want, I’ll have an awesome job, and maybe even a loving husband. I’ll eat Pop-Tarts and hamburgers for breakfast, I’ll live next door to my best friends and build secret tunnels between our houses, I’ll go on vacation whenever I feel like it, I’ll write a best-selling book under a pen name, and change the world. I feel like I’m still waiting. And not just for sugary breakfast foods. I often feel like I’m waiting for my life to begin.
My hopes and goals in life have shifted significantly over the years, but I still have that restless, gnawing drive to do more with my life. I still long to learn, create, and communicate. I want to go to graduate school, I want to take fun classes, I want to work for myself, I want to read incessantly, I want to hear professionals speak on all different topics, I want to travel the world, I want to write, I want to hear people’s stories and share my own, I want to feel connected and a part of something bigger, I want to discover my purpose and feel as if I’m actively working to improve myself and make a difference in the lives of others.
Yet, just like ten and fifteen years ago, there seems to be a bit of a disconnect. I look at my current situation and recognize that I want to do more, to achieve more, to become more; I recognize where there’s room for improvement and compile lists of things I would love to do; and then I sit back, sigh, and say “I’m bored.” I don’t take action, I don’t follow though. There are, of course, exceptions, but in general I let a ridiculous, yet insidious little fear of change get in the way. It’s frustrating recognizing my own inability to take that initiative when I so desperately long to.
Lately, I’ve really missed being in school, and I think that stems from the fact that without structure and guidance, I tend to wander aimlessly and question my own aptitude. I no longer have a tangible ultimate goal. I’m inherently and passionately curious, with exceedingly high expectations and hopes for my future. But even with all the right tools and ammunition, I feel stagnant and under-stimulated. I’m not sure if it’s my timidness, or the curse of recent graduates who are all hoping to find that “perfect job” in an economy that has little to offer, but either way, I’m admittedly bored. I think it’s about time I just do something, anything.










