I’m not a quitter. No, I don’t particularly enjoy quitting. Somehow though, along the way, I’ve lost my hobby.
I’ve had my seasons and phases.
The one I remember most vividly – rock collecting. That’s right, I was your average elementary/middle school girl that collected rocks of beaches, usually from Lake Michigan on walks with my outdoor-appreciating father. I had a rock polisher and a secret stash of favorites in the corner of my closet. It was a treasure.
I was into sports thereafter – volleyball, basketball, and softball. Starting second base for many of my teenage years, and proud of it. I loved being part of the team, the sound of crowds cheering, knees staining with dirt as a result of sliding into home. The smell of rain in late spring during practice. And slowly that too faded.
I had a go at singing, tossing around instruments one after another, testing out different sports teams, yet nothing stuck.
All in all, I think the thing with hobbies is that I don’t have one. Rumor has it they’re healthy and a good use of your time. Maybe I need to try them for a longer period of time or try for more accountability. Projects tend to become obsolete to me quickly and I move on. This time though I need focus and persistence. Stamp collecting, rollerblading, wine tasting. Too many choices – how could I ever decide. It’s almost like I should have started this years ago, but here I am with not yet a hobby.
Or is the thing with hobbies that some people aren’t wired for them? Maybe I am the exception. Maybe I should be thankful for an opportunity to not focus on one activity or collection, but a variety. I am in hobby-limbo. One day I can do parkour and the next be an equestrian. Hm. The world is my oyster.
Here comes the soul searching. I’m out to find a hobby, or run from the idea.