If you Google "teen boredom," all these studies will come up saying how bored teens are more likely to do drugs than non-bored teens, but let me ask you this: What teenager isn't bored?
I feel like it's something of a requirement for all teenagers to be bored at some point in their coming-of-age years. It's like one moment we're out and about, loving our lives, and the next all we want to do is go to bed with a banana split and cry (I did this on Wednesday... two scoops strawberry and one vanilla).
People still have this sort of stereotype that medication will solve everything -- like it's the answer to their problems. Every morning at boarding school, kids would line up at the nurse's station to get their morning meds. "Time for my happy pills!" a few kids would always yell. Don't get me wrong -- for a while I thought this way, too.
After growing up in New York, pretty much everyone I know these days is on meds (whether they are prescribed or not, that is a whole other story). They still think that Prozac makes you happy, Adderall makes you smart, or skinny and Xanax chills you out. But no matter how many pills you take, that void -- BOREDOM -- is still there.
I see all of my friends doing these huge trips to Africa, Thailand, India (the list goes on), trekking to these third world countries to do something life-affirming and character-shaping, because it "looks good for college," yet all they end up finding out is that the weed in Nairobi is laced with cocaine.
Changing the scenery doesn't get rid of the issue -- and this is coming from someone who has moved from coast to coast, house to house, school to school. The bottom line is that your issues are like a cloud over your head; where you go, they follow.
I hate to go all Carrie Bradshaw and pull the "I couldn't help but wonder..." line, but seriously, I've been thinking: Are we getting depressed because we're bored?
I know what it's like, though, to have that boredom become something more; to snowball
into something bigger. One day you're hanging out with friends, laughing, smiling -- feeling alive. Doing things normal teenagers do. Then the cloud that's been following you finally becomes this massive monsoon of epic proportions. Your whole life just becomes your room. It's your cave. You hide under your covers in the same pair of sweatpants, you're ordering food online. You're watching reruns of The OC. The episodes turn into seasons and before you know it, that boring life of quiet desperation, the one that you've been living for so long, suddenly feels so loud.