Bored

On the first day of 2025 it snowed, really snowed, for the first time all winter. All day, snow came down thickly, silently, relentlessly, blanking out the sky into a flat, bright white. I couldn’t keep myself from pressing my face against the window, more snow than I’ve seen in years. It kept snowing on and off for the next week, and I hardly knew what to do with myself – content but also weary, bracing for the cold snap to end, snow exchanged for rain. 

So far it hasn’t.

While daytime temperatures vary depending on cloud cover, January temperatures after sundown have stayed consistently in the single digits to low teens. When outside, any uncovered skin hurts, and extremities go numb and stiffen within minutes. Most evenings I’m at the ice rink, coaching youth teams (we have two rinks on-site, one inside a typical climate-controlled arena, the other protected from the elements by nothing more than a roof and thin walls on two sides). By the third hour on the outside rink, I’ve surpassed the ability to shiver and I’m sure my toes have cracked off into my skates.

I coach mostly the younger kids, from five-year-olds wobbling onto the ice for the first time to 8U players who are beginning to grasp more complex skating and passing concepts. I’m the only coach in 8U who isn’t a parent, and the only woman, but it doesn’t matter because I love coaching. Watching these kids charge into drills, all arms and legs, makes it all worth it. On game days I wrap myself in enough layers to out-compete an onion and remind the kids that hitting someone with their stick is a penalty, actually, whether or not it was an accident.

Now that I’m finished with my grad school applications (a weight off my back swapped for the purgatory of waiting for decisions to come out in April), the hours I spend at the rink are the most fulfilling and rewarding parts of each day. It gives me a purpose in my otherwise unemployed life (I applied for several National Park Service jobs but it’s unclear if they’ll still be offered with the recent funding cuts, another purgatory of waiting) and reminds me that really, what’s more important than passing on knowledge and passion to the next generation? What’s the point of knowing something if not to share it and inspire them to do the same?

Outside of hockey I’m left entirely to my own devices. In the mornings I get up and make myself an elaborate breakfast. While I eat my scallion pancakes (or French toast or chocolate and banana pancakes or porridge with spam and picked vegetables), I listen to the news (NPR, BBC, and NYT podcasts). I used to have little to no interest in keeping up with current events but being unemployed has made me so out-of-my-mind bored that I crave the mental stimulation of listening to something and thinking about its reporting biases, applications, and impacts.

For the first several weeks after my application intensity died down and I had nothing of measurable substance to fill my days I would find myself seized with a panic that I had to do something. I’M WASTING TIME, I would shout at myself. I should go skiing every day. I should teach myself how to code. I should meet new people, clean my room, volunteer, so I can come out of unemployment with quantifiable achievements that I can point to. Prove that even without a job I’m still a functioning, contributing member of society. Cooking myself breakfast then reading a book for several hours is not enough.

Compulsive productivity, my therapist called it. Feeling driven to prove your worth because social expectations demand it. But, she added, boredom breeds creativity.

With nothing to distract me from myself and so much time in each day, I’ve become much more in tune with my needs and interests. In the past few weeks I’ve read several books, played the piano, journaled, listened to podcasts, and gone to the gym. I’ve also (finally!) come to terms with parts of myself I’d been repressing for years. I’m thinking about my relationships, values, goals, and identity. I’ve narrowed down the number of activities and commitments I have, but everything I’ve kept is the most valuable to me.

I’ve recently become content with where I am and the slow lifestyle I have. The days will eventually get longer, the temperatures will rise, and my schedule will inevitably fill. When it comes, I’ll be ready. But for now, I’ll keep playing hockey in the freezing cold, and go on long, meandering walks in the snow.