Make Yourself the Hobby
While I’ve never been a big “birthday girl!” (you know the ones), the day of my birth became extra irrelevant after I had my kids - the first was born 1 week after my birthday, and the second 2 days before. My birthday just…disappeared. For a couple of years, this was a bit of a relief because it was one less thing to worry about.
Now? Well, this year is the first in 8 years that I’m ‘doing something’, and forcing my family to go out and eat real pasta with me. I am also using my birthday out as an excuse to get friends together to catch up. At this point, I am above nothing.
Maybe it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it’s pretty symbolic for me. When you disappear into a family life or work like a dog or constantly taking care of others, taking care of yourself seems like a fantasy.
A birthday revelation
What if we made ourselves our hobby?
Because I’m going to make ME my hobby.
I MATTER! And I FORGOT! And I just REMEMBERED!
Not to be the person who includes definitions in her writing, but here is the definition of a hobby:
“an activity done regularly in one’s leisure time for pleasure”.
Lol. Leisure time.
The concept of making oneself a hobby should not be mistaken for some self-care nonsense or wellness hyperbole. A facial or green juice isn’t going deep enough anymore. Are they momentarily enjoyable? Yes. Moving the dial on deep, lasting change? Nope. We need presence and intention, and we need it to be consistent.
Consistent with my SELF. To get better at my SELF.
LIKE A HOBBY! See?!
Become obsessed with yourself
As the youths would say, “it’s giving…selfish”, but hear me out: we get hobbies when we are seeking growth or new experiences, when we need to shake up a routine, or get ourselves out of a funk or into a new community. But the thought of adding a new hobby to my plate when I can barely remember to pay the utility bill on time? I mean, come on. How?
Hence, me. Myself! Why can’t I be my hobby?
The word hobby is derived from “hobby horse”, a term used in a novel from the late-1700s used to describe “whimsical obsessions”. The concept of a hobby wasn’t really introduced to the masses until the 1800s, and at the time was considered pretty trivial.
Now, in our work-obsessed culture, it’s inarguable: hobbies provide positive benefits abound for folks all around the world because they give a focus outside of work.
BRB, changing my IG bio to “I am my own whimsical obsession”.
Life and its realities
Life is hard, and I know I’m not alone in the feelings of exhaustion or exasperation with the status quo. Depression and anxiety tripled for moms during the pandemic, and it hasn’t yet reverted to pre-pandemic levels. Also, we didn’t need a pandemic to know moms Do The Most.
While I’m lucky to have a lot of little joys in my life, I have to admit that parenting and/or partnering means compromising and making sacrifices, and I have done that to the point of melting my identity into other people and work.
Well fuck that! I use to be fun and lively and energetic and sexy as hell, and opinionated and interesting and silly and playful! That identity is still in there, but it’s been shoved to the bottom to make room for making everyone else happy, fed, alive, paid, and on time.
Look, I have friends who make their lives happen and keep their family rolling and partners happy and they, themselves are happy! They also do not seem to need to write dramatic, self-indulgent newsletters about their revelations about taking care of their minds and bodies. Kudos to them and I try to tell them often that I admire them, that I love them, and I’m here if they ever need me.
You know, every single therapist that has ever had the misfortune of sitting across from me has said the same thing: take care of yourself. I always hear them, nodding enthusiastically, and then continue to live each day like a masochistic martyr. It’s not enough to talk about the ‘oxygen mask on first’ thing. That’s just so…abstract. That’s life or death. We need to figure out how to manage every single day.
I’m not saying motherhood and partnering kills all of the fun - not at all, but I do think I missed the chapter in the Book of Life that reminds you that if you DO extend your family that you have to be careful not to overextend yourself.
“Just get a hobby”
Identity is a really fascinating topic to me. I love being a bit of a chameleon, and I especially loved playing my big juicy role as the high-achieving, get shit done tech girl. Then, I had a brain injury and could not work. I stared at the ceiling and wept, whimpering over and over to anyone who would listen, “but who am I without my work?”
It was then that I started sharing my unravelling, my realization that I hadn’t spent any time over the previous decade getting to know myself. I polled my internet people and pleaded with trusted mentors and confidants to tell me how to untangle my identity from work. The response that shocked me the most (and was shared the most often) was to “get a hobby”.
I had a 2 and 4 year old, no family to support, a partner that traveled weekly for work, and a brain injury. I remember thinking…. “Seriously? Who has the time for a hobby?”
Turns out, lots of people have time for hobbies, and the difference between me and those people is that they fucking prioritized it and made it happen, and I stayed home and felt sorry for myself and kept working my tail off for big tech companies instead of getting better and wiping butts for whiny (adorable) kids and making lunches for of all living creatures in my house, still making all of the appointments and managing logistics and school applications and holidays and gifts and the social life, thinking I was some kind of hero and that the world would crumble if I sat down for 10 seconds to take a deep breath. Did I mentioned that I was also a completely and utter bitch?
Hobbies not habits
One thing we need to steer clear of in figuring out this new hobby (you!) is the productivity trap. No one needs to yet another task list and feel the need to tick things off the box in order to have ‘accomplished’ something. We would *never* do that for a hobby, and now that you are the hobby, you will not do that for yourself.
One approach to better integrating you as your own hobby is something my sweet and smart friend Lily, an ex-colleague in tech who is now studying for her MA in counselling psychology and works as a Coach, shared with me: she had a “care menu” which was literally this printed out menu that she made, and she picked 3 things from the menu each day to focus on for herself. Think things like…15 minutes of stretching or a cold plunge or listening to a new album or 10 minutes of meditation. This is such a beautiful, delicious, warm, and loving approach that doesn’t hit like the task lists our A-type selves have learned to use to rule the day.
The thrill of being alive is the constant evolution of your beliefs, of who and how you are, what moves you, and what you enjoy. When you haven’t checked in with yourself in a while, or have been constantly caring for others, or neck deep in a relentless cycle of work, it’s easy to forget.
Am I a morning person or do I have I just fully submitted to the demands of motherhood?
Are business books that enjoyable, or am I so deeply and horrifyingly consumed by hustle culture and afraid to fall behind?
Do I even like or benefit from gluten free pasta or do I just eat it because in the 500 decisions I make in a day and the 500 pieces of media snippets that make their way in front of me and I’ve landed on wheat being bad?
Get blissed
What do you like? What fires you up? What gives you pleasure? If you just ate whatever you wanted, what would you make yourself for dinner? When does your body feel good? What were you doing and who were you with the last time you had a fun adventure?
For me, running in the rain feels like I’m in my own movie montage. I love the humming my body does after a cold plunge. Historical fiction with a strong female protagonist keeps me hooked each time. I love sitting in stretchy pants with women who grab life by the balls but don’t take themselves too seriously. Real, wheat-full pasta DOES taste better.
If you remember one thing from this email, let it be this: pay attention, and do a few things each day for you and only you: stretch, exercise, read, write, call a friend like it’s 2004 and we still do that, laugh, or whatever gets you blissed. You’re worth it, you deserve it, and you matter.
It’s not selfish to look after yourself.
Looking after yourself is your new hobby.