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Boredom - Bystander Effect
As I go through this list of words, one word, one concept at a time, I wonder sometimes where it might be helpful to others. I also find it helpful to me as I try and place myself within each word. I can’t resonate with all of them, but many of them strike a chord closer to my heart than I want them too.
Boredom
There are lots of different kinds of boredom.
The “I don’t know what to do” kind.
The “nothing in my life feels stimulating” kind.
The “I feel disconnected” kind.
Often, hidden under boredom is desire: for change, for challenge, for hope, for possibility, for connection, creativity, or rest. Boredom can be a quiet signal that something in us wants more or different.
Sometimes, though, boredom is just a tired mind or body running out of fuel. It’s important not to treat every boring moment like a grand message from the universe.
Either way, boredom is data.
It can be a nudge to notice what we’re missing or craving. If we never pause, we might miss something we actually need.
See: curiosity, desire, play, numbing, experiment, meaning.
Boundaries
This is one of those words that’s more culturally important than personally important. If I could excise the way we talk about it from our collective language, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Let me explain. Boundaries are generally framed as rules for separation. Personally codified laws meant to protect us from harm. Not a bad thing. For a lot of people, especially those leaving abusive or unsafe situations, those hard lines are the first real act of self-respect. Sometimes “no more” is what keeps us alive.
The trouble is how boundary-talk gets used in the wider culture. These rules are often unspoken, inconsistently applied, and they don’t automatically create an ethos that builds healthy relationships.
Here’s the somewhat academic piece of me bursts out from time to time: if our initial set of rules for our lives is built around how we won’t be in relationship with people… how do we know what a healthy relationship is?
Underneath all the descriptions and pithy sayings, I want nothing more than healthy relationships to dominate the landscape of our lives. I want us to know what it feels like to be loved, to be curious, and to be cared for by one another.
It’s a monumental ask, and I feel vulnerable and naïve even writing that.
When we start in the negative, with a “this is what I won’t tolerate” frame of mind, we can end relationships before they even have a chance to grow. All in the name of “having good boundaries.”
I guess what I’m saying is: if balance is bullshit, then the way we talk about boundaries can be bullshittier.
Do we need to be treated with respect and care? Of course. That’s what happens in healthy relationships.
Do we need to hold people accountable when they treat us poorly, and sometimes walk away from relationships where there is abuse or disregard? Damn straight we do. For many of us, those rules are how we survive and stay regulated. That’s not the part I’m fighting.
Do we need to clearly outline expectations for how a healthy relationship works for us? Yes. That’s on us:
This is what I will tolerate.
This is how I feel loved.
This is how much patience I have while we’re still learning about each other.
I’m not entirely anti-boundary. When people won’t respect our clearly articulated need for respect and love, then it’s “Bye, Felicia” in my book.
But we do that because we believe healthy relationships matter, not because some arbitrary code of ethics dictates it.
Boundaries, at their best, grow out of care for ourselves and the people we want to keep in our lives.
See: attachment, safety, autonomy, communication, discernment, codependence.
Burnout
Burnout is the reason I have so many thoughts about balance. It’s a systemic issue that affects all of us personally, even if we’re generally happy in our work and life.
My struggle with “balance” comes from the ineffective ways workplaces try to combat burnout: telling us to add more meaningful personal activities while refusing to hire appropriately, manage workloads, or question the belief that “good people work hard no matter what.”
Most of the systemic responses to burnout amount to little more than lipstick on a pig.
A healthy relationship with our work asks us to stay in conversation with what we do, who we do it for, and how it impacts our wellbeing.
There’s an assumption buried in that thought, that we can switch jobs or change workplaces whenever we need to. I know that’s not the case for many of us. Sometimes we have to endure a callous workplace for a whole tangle of reasons: money, visas, benefits, caregiving, timing.
So instead of quick fixes, I want to name a few truths that might open some doors:
· Rest is not something we earn with productivity. It’s a basic human need.
· Needing rest is not a sign of weakness, lack of commitment, or a character flaw.
· As much as we’re able, the people who support us through the hardest seasons deserve some of our best energy, not only the leftovers.
· If you’re in a position of power where you work, you’re in a unique spot to advocate for healthier expectations, staffing, and pace backing it up with data when needed.
Burnout is not a moral or character failure. It’s our body and mind telling us that the pace we’ve been asked (or forced) to keep is unsustainable for the marathon we’re running.
See: energy, busyness, boundaries, depression, finitude, rest.
Busyness
Busy, we all get that way sometimes. Life collides into a mishmash of appointments, deadlines, meetings, coffees, parties. It happens. It’s exhausting. And then, eventually, things slow down and life returns to something like a manageable pace.
Busyness is different. It’s when “busy” stops being a season and starts becoming an identity or a shield. For some of us, busyness turns into a protective habit, a way to avoid discomfort, pain, or trauma by staying in constant motion. We keep ourselves so scheduled that there’s no quiet moment for anything to catch up.
That’s not the whole story, of course. Some lives are crammed full because of survival: caregiving, multiple jobs, systems that don’t give much room to breathe. That’s not a character flaw, that’s context.
What I’m talking about here is when we could ease up a little, but don’t. When productivity becomes our socially acceptable way to numb out. We look focused. We seem driven. Underneath, we might be terrified that if we stop, whatever we’re trying not to feel will finally find us.
It’s not an indictment, just data. If our calendar is full and life still feels empty, then it might be time to get curious.
See: burnout, energy, avoidance, numbing, rest, anxiety.
Bystander effect
I remember driving across a large bridge in Charleston, South Carolina, several years ago. My brother was in the car ahead of me. Traffic suddenly slowed. An accident just happened, one car rear-ending another. People were weaving around them to keep moving.
My brother pulled over and stopped in front of the cars. I followed. He got out and asked if anyone needed medical attention or if the police had been called. I went to the other car and did the same. Everyone seemed okay, shaken, worried about the other driver, but physically all right.
We stayed a few minutes to make sure folks were okay and left when the first officer arrived.
Here’s the part that stays with me: I was not planning on stopping.
I was irritated by the traffic. When my brother stopped, it jolted me. I wanted to be a bystander; he was unwilling to be.
Not all bystander moments are that dramatic or require us to get out of our cars on a busy bridge. Sometimes it’s noticing when someone is upset and saying something. Sometimes it’s helping someone gather papers they dropped. Sometimes it’s stepping in, or calling for help, when harm is happening.
Many of the social psychology terms in this book circle around tension between certainty and uncertainty. We’re often certain when we shouldn’t be, and uncertain when we feel a pull to do something.
The bystander effect lives in that uncertainty. We don’t know if we can help, or how. We worry about overreacting, looking foolish, or making things worse. So we tell ourselves someone else will do it.
Confusion plus fear plus a crowd often leads to inaction.
It’s not a call to be heroes. It’s simply to notice that pull to move from “someone should” to “I can start.”
A small step from standing by to being with.
See: diffusion of responsibility, courage, ethics, equity, community, power.