Please don’t ask me what my hobbies are.
I don’t have a curated answer. I have symptoms. 😌
Some people hike. Some people paint. Me? I overthink conversations from 2014, manage a mild existential crisis before noon, and absolutely destroy a block of cheese like it owes me money. Balance.
That little monkey with the headphones sipping iced tea? That’s not laziness—that’s emotional regulation. That’s me romanticizing my coping mechanisms and calling it self-care.
Here’s the savage reality:
Not everyone has the luxury of “fun hobbies” when they’ve been busy surviving. Some of us were mastering resilience, emotional awareness, and the art of holding it together in public. Sorry my résumé doesn’t include pottery.
Overthinking isn’t a flaw—it’s a brain that never clocks out. Panic attacks? Uninvited guests. Eating cheese? A proven grounding technique (don’t argue with me).
But here’s the helpful part:
Your hobbies don’t have to look impressive to be valid. Rest counts. Laughter counts. Finding small moments of peace counts. And yes—eating cheese while ignoring the world absolutely counts.
So no, I don’t knit. I don’t garden. I don’t have a passion project that looks good on Instagram. I have self-awareness, humor, and enough coping skills to make it through the day without losing my mind.
And honestly?
That’s a full-time hobby. 😏✨
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