Why Revisiting Old Hobbies (And Trying New Ones) Feels So Good
When You Pick It Back Up and Realize… Oh, She’s Still in There
There’s a very specific kind of joy that comes from picking up something you used to love and realizing it still kinda slaps.
Maybe it’s a little dusty. Maybe you have to Google how to do it again. Maybe you dramatically announce, “I used to be really good at this,” even though no one asked.
But suddenly you’re like… wait. I remember this version of me. She was fun.
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us quietly dropped our hobbies. Not in a big, dramatic “I quit!” way—more like a slow fade to black. School got harder. Work got louder. Free time turned into laying on the couch staring at our phones, fully dissociating but calling it “rest.”
Suddenly the things we used to do for fun felt unnecessary, impractical, or like something we’d need to be good at to justify doing.
The Awkward Phase (AKA Being Bad at It Again)
So when you go back to an old hobby, there’s usually a moment of hesitation. You’re rusty. You’re not immediately amazing. Your inner critic is already clearing its throat.
But then—plot twist—your body remembers. Your hands remember. Your brain finally shuts up for five blessed minutes.
And before you know it, you’re in that flow state where time passes weirdly fast and you forget to overthink every single life decision you’ve ever made.
Old hobbies are sneaky like that. They reconnect you with a version of yourself that existed before everything felt like a performance. Before every interest needed to be monetized, aestheticized, or turned into a personality trait.
They remind you that you’re allowed to do things just because they’re fun. Groundbreaking. Truly.
Starting Something New = Free Therapy, Actually
And then there’s starting a brand-new hobby as an adult, which is its own special kind of character development.
No expectations. No history. No “I used to be better at this in high school.” You’re just a beginner, and honestly? It’s kind of a relief.
You get to be bad at something without it meaning anything about you as a person. You get to try things, quit things, come back to things, and change your mind—no apology tour required.
New hobbies don’t care about your productivity. They don’t ask for consistency. They definitely don’t need a five-year plan.
They’re just like, “Hey, wanna mess around and see if this is fun?” And sometimes that’s exactly the energy we need.
A Gentle Rebellion Against Hustle Culture
Being open to hobbies—old or new—is a small but mighty act of rebellion in a world that wants everything to be productive.
It’s choosing play over pressure. Curiosity over burnout. It’s admitting that sometimes the best thing for your nervous system isn’t another self-improvement routine—it’s doing something that makes your brain go quiet and your shoulders unclench.
And yes, hobbies can help with anxiety. Not in a ‘this will fix everything’ way, but in a very real, very human way. They give your mind somewhere gentle to land. They interrupt doom scrolling. They remind you that you are more than your to-do list, your spirals and your group chat vent messages.
Your Hobby Does Not Need a Glow-Up
Your hobbies don’t need to become side hustles. They don’t need to be impressive. They don’t need to be Instagram-worthy. Their only job is to make your life feel a little lighter and a little more like yours.
So if there’s something you used to love, consider picking it up again. If there’s something you’ve been curious about but keep talking yourself out of, try it anyway.
You don’t have to commit forever.
You don’t have to be good at it.
You just have to let yourself enjoy being a person who still likes things—and honestly, that’s enough.
Journal Prompts:
What hobbies or activities did I love in the past, and when did I stop making time for them? What was going on in my life then?
How do I usually talk to myself when I’m “bad” at something new? What would it sound like to be a little kinder instead?
What’s something I’ve been curious about trying lately but keep talking myself out of—and why?