Oh, how I envy those who know their passion, their purpose. Who can pursue it without wondering what the point is or if anything will come from it. Whether it's a career or past time, I wish I had that.
Instead, I am stuck with a never ending list of interests, all of which I feel are pointless unless I can earn money from them, and even then it's unrealistic.
I want an aquarium.
Why?
Because I like fish.
Why?
I don't know, because they'll reproduce and I can sell their babies?
This is an example of a conversation I have monthly if I'm lucky, or weekly if I'm feeling extra ambitious.
I want to make dollhouse miniatures. I want to grow mushrooms. I want to knit, cross stitch, sew, garden, write a book, learn mandarin, program an app, or better yet, a video game.
This is no exaggeration. These are all ideas I've had and those in my life are continuously asking me why. They try to be supportive, tell me what I should do to make it worthwhile, but when I get over it in a month and move on to something else, I feel a wave of disappointment.
The worst part is, I don't know if it's theirs or mine.
Why do I hold guilt over hobbies when I know the point is pleasure and not commitment. or worse, a career? The best answer I have is that I don't have a career, so I figure I don't deserve hobbies. If I don't have a focus, I don't deserve the distractions.
I made an etsy account, I posted the baby fish on kijiji, now what? Should I feel relief? Should I be resolved of guilt? Because I don't. I'm not. I continue to struggle for answers, and when I put time and effort into one of these interests, it feels wrong. Selfish even.
Oh, how I envy those who can separate career from hobbies, and appreciate the latter for what it should be - a way to enjoy yourself, express yourself, and if you're lucky, bring yourself fulfilment.
