The Upside of Monotony
Nearly a year into the pandemic, can we learn something from the tediousness of our days?
Photo by Ernest Karchmit
The monotony is starting to set in. It’s been nine months since the pandemic hit and many of us began sheltering in place, and a lot has changed since then, sort of. Cities have been shuttered, and reopened, and shuttered again. Ditto for schools. The promise of a vaccine is becoming more real— and with it, the fantasy of a return to a world without masks, hand sanitizer, and social distancing— but we are not quite there yet. Instead, here we are, nearly a year later, still at home, once more sheltering in place, managing distance learning for our children or online grocery shopping for our parents, dialing into video calls at work and the Zoom social calls we’ve developed a love-hate relationship with.
When we first started sheltering in place, I remember hearing and enjoying jokes about how time meant nothing anymore, like this one:
At the time, these kinds of quips were funny. They provided a sense of relief, and normalcy — oh, you have trouble keeping track of time too? Thank goodness it’s not just me. But for many, these jokes, like us, have grown tired: Now, even the novelty of living a hazy, time-warped life has worn off. We have no sense of time, and it’s not even interesting anymore; the fact that our days look the same has become expected.
It’s one thing managing a less than ideal routine when you’re first getting started and figuring things out (cue March 2020). It’s an entirely different thing when your routine — still imperfect, but more predictably so — has become tired and old hat, as it has for many of us nearly a year later. There is a seemingly endless supply of stress to be had, with more stir crazy moments waiting in the wings— and we are the lucky ones. As COVID-19 case counts continue to rise, it’s no wonder pandemic fatigue has set in. There is hope, if also frustration.
Now I am trying to determine: is monotony necessarily a bad thing? Why does repetition and routine feel so bad anyway? Must monotony always bear down on us like a heavy weight on our shoulders, or might there be another way? Are there any advantages to living a monotonous life? Is there anything we can learn from this dull, tedious, monotonous moment?
The Perils of Monotony, or, Why Monotony Stings
To find the upside of monotony, it helps to look at why we hate it so much, first. Monotony was labeled a common enemy of the good some time ago, particularly in the context of the workplace — it has been investigated from the Industrial Revolution all the way through to recent shifts in job automation. Research shows that if work is repetitive and unstimulating, motivation lags, performance drops, and output decreases. This is bad for business, and also for employees, especially for recent generations of working Americans, for whom a job is no longer simply a job. For many, it is a path to a career, a step towards fulfillment, and a conduit for personal meaning. (Hello, job-hopping generation.) If we are bored on the job, how can we possibly lead a fulfilling life? Boredom is therefore to be avoided at all costs — by seeking out new projects, expanding our scope, or changing jobs altogether. (This, I believe, is one of the reasons for why many companies create and tout mission statements and company values— no matter how small the cog in the machine, employees can find comfort and a sense of meaning in those, too, ish.)
Outside of the workplace, monotony can negatively affect our relationships, romantic and otherwise. When we are stuck in a repetitive loop, it’s easy to see those around us as simply part of that loop; instead of engaging with others, we may check out, withdraw, or interact on autopilot. Repeated disconnection can wear down relationships over time. If you’ve ever heard a friend discuss a breakup or divorce, you know that while some catalysts for separation are extreme (having an affair, say), others are more benign (simply running out of things to say to each other). Sometimes boredom is what leads to the affair in the first place! (The sex toy industry has notably capitalized on the dangers of boredom in romantic relationships by offering ways to “spice things up” in the bedroom and keep monotony at bay.)
When monotony is the prevailing sentiment, it can also become dangerously easy to compare ourselves to others. When we are bored, we often look outside of ourselves for a solution, and we don’t always like what we see. (Thanks, social media.) Our lives are the boring ones, not anyone else’s. We are drowning in the doldrums of our day-to-day, but they seem to be thriving. Jealousy, competitiveness, and feelings of inadequacy can make an already difficult situation worse. When we are bored by our routines, the grass begins to look greener everywhere but where we are. In ways big and small, when monotony enters the realm of our relationships, our personal connections can begin to suffer.
Not only can monotony impact our personal relationships, but it can hamper our collective efforts, too. Too bored to care, we can become inured to the status quo even when it merits change (Politicians are all the same, so why bother voting), or lose momentum on continuing to fight for and protect issues we do care about (I know I shouldn’t hang out with my friends right now but I am really tired of social distancing). If the tediousness of monotony throws us into a stupor, if in our boredom we begin to tune out, we risk personal harm and collective damage.
The Hidden Utility of Monotony and What We Can Learn From It
Unfortunately, we have a lot more of the same in our future, as the virus continues to rage, schools remain closed, and offices remain remote— our circumstances are unlikely to change any time soon and remain largely out of our control. That black cloud that hangs over us when we are bored at work, stuck in a rut at home, and unable to spice things up? Here to stay — best not to dwell on its downsides. Which is why I suggest getting comfortable with the idea that this monotony will be around for some time. Some days it may be enough to acknowledge it and accept that it is plaguing us, instead of fighting against it (not every day can be special, after all). But maybe, on a good day, we might find ways to embrace it: to take inspiration from the sameness and experiment with it to make monotony work for rather than against us. To do that, we have to reframe how we think about monotony and find its silver linings. I offer the following in that vein.
Hidden Utility #1: Monotony and the upside of the familiar
Part of what makes monotony so irritating is the sense that nothing changes: that our lives are predictable, rote, and constrained by repetition. But there is also an upside to the familiar and predictable. Sometimes we want something different, but sometimes we don’t. This is why so many of us play a single album on repeat, return to the same cherished films over and over again, or go back to the beginning of Season 1 of a show we still love years later. It is why so many of us allow (beg!) the algorithm to tell us what to listen to or watch next, following recommendations that serve up more of the same, based on what we’ve hit play and repeat on before. Familiar moments, experiences, objects, recipes, entertainment can feel cozy, warm, and comforting all at once. Could our pandemic routines become cozy and comforting, too?
In some ways, I would argue they already have. In the beginning of the pandemic, novelty characterized our days: “Familiar” had been thrown out the window, and we were left to make sense of it all. But nearly a year later, the routines we’ve established, boring as they may sometimes be, are proof that we’ve learned and adapted, and carved something at least semi stable out of the chaos. If we look hard enough, we might even find something to appreciate in our newly created routines: normalcy (given the circumstances), familiarity, and predictability. That might be a daily afternoon walk with the pup where before we were tied to our office desk, a visit to the in-laws for a homemade lunch instead of stuffing our faces in front of the computer, or even a pair of oh-so-comfy quarantine pants we 100% want to bring with us into our future post-quarantine worlds. No one wanted to have to adapt in this way, but here we are. The more we live these routines out, the more we grow accustomed to them, and on a good day maybe even enjoy them, like a well-worn pair of shoes we’ve worked hard to break in.
#2: Monotony as a catalyst for change
At the same time that we enjoy what is known to us, we can also outgrow it, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Anyone who has been mind-boggling bored by a job and changed job functions or even employers as a result knows that monotony can be a changemaker. In the context of the pandemic, changing one’s job might not be possible, or even desired given the sheer quantity of other changes we have all been subject to already. But making even small changes can go a long way to help shake things up when we are in a rut. For example, we might insert novelty into our lives by cooking something outside of our comfort zone one day this week, taking a different route to the dog park than our usual one, or walking backwards for a block, just because. Yes, it’s silly, but silly is better than bored.
More profoundly, monotony can give us an opportunity not just to change our circumstances, but ourselves. In fact, in a time where our day-to-day is dictated more by an invisible virus than by our personal whims and fancies, working on ourselves may be more within reach than working to change our circumstances. This, in many ways, is the story of Groundhog’s Day, the 1993 movie starring the inimitable Bill Murray as Phil, a snarky TV weatherman reliving the same day (Groundhog’s Day) over and over again. At first, Phil tries to make sense of his circumstances, but as the days wear on he gives into them, indulging in binge-eating and one-night stands. When he realizes his life has no consequences, he is at a loss, and attempts suicide multiple times. Feeling trapped, he becomes miserable, frustrated, and hopeless. Eventually, he begins to undergo a transformation: he learns new skills, offers help and generosity to others, and realizes he must change to become a better person (one deserving of his newfound love interest, Rita, the coworker who has been there all along). Through the repetition of his days, Phil experiences a change in perspective, and then a change in himself.
Though billed as a comedy, the film is not just clever in its conceit; its philosophical underpinnings take it beyond a classic rom com. The film critic Robert Ebert summed the film’s meaning — and Phil’s transformation — well:
We see that life is like that. Tomorrow will come, and whether or not it is always Feb. 2, all we can do about it is be the best person we know how to be. The good news is that we can learn to be better people. There is a moment when Phil tells Rita, "When you stand in the snow, you look like an angel." The point is not that he has come to love Rita. It is that he has learned to see the angel.
In other words, every day is a second chance to get it right and live a good life, however we define that. We can seek to be better versions of ourselves, to be there for others, to feel at home in our own skin and in the world. In the context of the pandemic, we can change, even if our days do not.
#3: Monotony and the power of observation
Just as monotony can bring forth self-reflection and personal change, it can also lead us to be more attuned to the world around us. Imagine being stuck in an airport due to flight delays (remember when?). In response, we may obsessively track flight updates, subjecting ourselves to an emotional tug of war as our departure time fluctuates. As we wait, we may think: How much longer? Why me? We may bemoan how bored we are, how much time we have lost, and how we’ll never fly that airline again. Alternatively, we can focus our attention elsewhere. We can observe a nearby family and the hilarious number of items they’ve brought with them for a 60 minute flight, and wonder what this says about the young couple’s parenting style. We can observe the older couple to our left, calm and at ease as they silently trade newspaper sections back and forth, and muse about what their relationship is like. You might notice the tacky 80s carpeting in the airport, and wonder how on earth those colors and shapes could have ever been considered fashionable, or even appreciate that old rug as a memento from another time. You might take a walk around the terminal and imagine what it would be like to be getting off a flight from Gambia at this very moment, or about to board for Berlin. With this approach, we can use monotony to tune our powers of observation and build better awareness of the world around us.
Monotony frees us to see it all, and even wonder about it. We can be attentive to all the small things, the way a child can find wonder in the magic of a magnet, or the feeling of wearing mittens on their hands for the first time, or even the thrill of discovering how the bitterness of a grapefruit eventually yields sweetness. We can find color amidst the gray of our day-to-day by noticing and enjoying the details we usually gloss over— the way our partner gently crawls into bed so as not to disturb us when we are (sort of) sleeping, that first big stretch of the morning from our cat or dog, how quickly our houseplant came back to life after a simple change in environment, or how the light takes on a particularly yellow-white quality to it early in the morning, before it’s warmed us up.This kind of awareness may be visual, but it can also be sensory in other ways: we can appreciate sound, taste, smell, and touch, too. In this realm, I’ve learned from the best, enjoying adventures in tactile exploration led by my son— we touch gravel, pebbles, bark, and petals, and feel it all beneath our skin. Watching him interact with and discover his surroundings is pure joy, and on a good day, I can learn from how he finds delight even in the smallest of details (did you know a ball can bounce and roll?). I have grown to love my daily walks outside for this reason: no walk is ever the same when I am attuned to my surroundings. When our senses are open, small wonders are everywhere.
#4: Monotony’s hidden creative juices
Good news for children, creatives, and anyone who wants to exercise their creative juices and mental prowess — monotony, in all its shapes and forms, can actually help us to be more creative. When we are bored, we seek activity elsewhere; it’s the brain’s way of lessening the discomfort of monotony. For many of us, that unfortunately means turning to our phones — a creativity suck in and of itself. But if we can feel the onset of monotony without feeling for our devices, we can begin to see the world around us in a different, more inventive way. Watch any child undergo this transformation when they are bored: at first, they struggle and writhe through the boredom. Then, before you know it, they’ve written a song or a play or invented a game with a complex set of rules understood only by them. Often, we are afraid to let ourselves (and our children) grow bored. But if we can stick with boredom through the discomfort, there is play, experimentation, and creativity to be found on the other side. Your “studio” may not look like that of an artist, and that’s fine — whether you tap into that creative streak in the kitchen, while daydreaming, lost in your thoughts on a drive, or in a designated home office or craft space, great ideas happen anywhere if we let them. The boredom you feel, if allowed to uncomfortably fester for a bit, may actually be behind your next spark of inspiration and creative mojo.
#5: Monotony and the power of stability
For years, a friend of mine went through one dramatic relationship after another— the kinds that movie plots are made of, without the classic American happy ending. Then, she met a different kind of partner— kind, generous, moderate in all senses of the word, seemingly, well, boring. Of course, he was not actually boring — he was simply not dramatic, which was exactly what she needed. Their relationship is stable, secure, and satisfying without the dramatic highs and lows that characterized other partnerships. Most of us would not describe our ideal relationships as boring, but the best relationships often come with some predictability and mundaneness. A partnership that is steady, safe, and solid is also, from time to time, a little boring. (Just ask any married couple.) Next to drama, chaos, uncertainty, and tumult, it’s easy to see how consistency, routine, and yes, even a little boredom aren’t half bad. Sometimes adventure is good for us, and sometimes “boring” is better for us.
Boredom, at this moment, likely means we are healthy, and that our loved ones are, too — no small feat during these strange times. Possibly, it means not just that our health is secure, but that our jobs are, too. In a moment as chaotic as many of us have ever experienced in our lifetimes, the fact that we may have many boring moments a day might indicate that our lives are otherwise stable. That doesn’t make our monotony any less insufferable in the moment, but it is overall a good thing. As annoying as monotony may be, as dull and gray as the days may feel, in some ways at least, to be bored is a privilege. Consistency in routine, predictable days, repetitive tasks — though not always inspiring, these are signs that overall, given the circumstances and in the grand scheme of things, things are probably pretty okay. If you’re looking for a silver lining to make the days more manageable, here it is: Your life is good enough to be boring.
If there’s anything this pandemic has taught me, time and time again, it’s that I’m fortunate. I may not enjoy the tedium, but I can handle it— and, on a good day, maybe even take advantage of it. I am not saying it will be easy to shift how we think about monotony, and how we manage it. But I’d like to challenge myself to try.
So here’s to finding something novel hidden among the sameness. To taking comfort in what’s known, tried, and true, and revelling in the familiar from time-to-time. To doing it all over again tomorrow, only slightly differently this time. And on days where small mind shifts are not enough, to making space for self-compassion by turning off the news, taking a sick day (or hour) if we are able, eating our favorite comfort food, and indulging for a moment, acknowledging and appreciating that what we are doing day-after-day — the routine you’ve been forced to create and done your best to manage, along with all the relentless sameness you’ve endured— isn’t easy. Pandemic fatigue is real, and it’s boring, it’s dull, it’s exhausting, and it’s hard, and you are not alone in how you feel — we are all just working it out as best we can. So when the monotony hits, take a breath and see if you can find an upside. If all else fails, there’s always the promise of a righteous, collective, primal scream, right?