I belong to the generation that instinctively reaches for their phone the moment they have to pause for a minute. Waiting in line, waiting for the tram, at the dentist’s office — as soon as the world slows down around me, the urge kicks in: check the screen! Maybe you know the feeling too, when you can’t scroll your phone and end up fidgeting alone in public places.
For a long time, I didn’t realize this was more than just killing time — it was signaling a deeper emptiness. After a tough breakup, when I started focusing more on my mental health, I noticed how impossible it was for me to just… be. Not working, not watching something, not chatting, not listening to a podcast — just simply being alone with my thoughts. It was scary to exist quietly and alone. And that scary feeling made me realize this restlessness wasn’t just a bad habit — it was an actual addiction. Not figuratively, but literally.
Dopamine Is Behind the Addiction
Dopamine is the happiness hormone our brain releases when something new happens or when we get a stimulus. Social media and constant busyness exploit this perfectly. A new comment, a like, a notification — each one a tiny dopamine hit. The more we get, the more we get used to it. Eventually, our brain gets bored without stimulation and can only focus on the next hit.
Chasing dopamine is totally normal — but when we don’t have to finish a task, notice our surroundings, or do anything at all except stare at a screen, it can lead to serious consequences.
When dopamine doesn’t come, we feel bored. We wait for something to happen. And if we don’t distract ourselves, what we’ve been trying to push away quietly bubbles up: feelings. Anxiety. Sadness. Memories. Sometimes just our own thoughts — which we’ve also trained ourselves to avoid.
Mindful Doing Nothing
After this realization, I started intentionally carving out time each day to do nothing. At first, it was really tough. I even experienced withdrawal-like symptoms: restlessness, impatience, and the feeling that I "should be keeping busy." But I stuck with it. And it was worth it.
Over time, old memories surfaced. I noticed my surroundings more deeply. I saw patterns in the tiles, faces in the waiting room. I discovered music in the shuffling of papers at a government office. Once, sitting in a park, I saw a snail eating a leaf — something I’d never noticed before.
Most importantly, by making space for boredom — and for stimuli coming from outside and inside, but not from a screen or headphones — my creativity soared. I not only understood my feelings’ roots better, which helped me manage them more mindfully, but I also got way better ideas for writing and creating.
Now, I deliberately embrace boredom, though I wouldn’t really call it boredom. It’s more like waiting. Quietly tuning in, both inward and outward, which helps me truly be present. And I get to experience more interesting things than any phone screen could ever offer.
