In this reflection we let go of optimization.
You used to do things for fun. Then somewhere along the way, fun started needing a justification.
You cannot just run. You need a marathon to train for. You cannot just draw. You need an Etsy shop. You cannot just read. You need a book club, a Goodreads goal, a way to prove the hours were spent productively.
The hobby got absorbed into the hustle. The thing you did for joy became another item on the self-improvement checklist.
This is what happens when worth gets tied to output. Every hour needs to earn its place. Rest becomes recovery for more work. Play becomes networking with a friendlier name. There is no activity that cannot be turned into a side project.
But hobbies are not supposed to be productive. That is literally the definition. A hobby is something you do for its own sake. Not for money, not for followers, not for an optimized life.
You are allowed to be bad at things. To do things inefficiently. To spend time on activities that will never pay off, never build your brand, never turn into anything other than themselves.
There is value in purposelessness. In doing something just because you want to. In letting your attention rest on an activity that asks nothing of you except presence.
The pressure to monetize everything is relatively new. Older generations had hobbies that stayed hobbies. Things they did in the garage or the garden that no one ever saw. Activities that had no audience and no outcome.
Reclaiming that is harder than it sounds. You have to actively resist the urge to optimize. To let yourself putter. To be a beginner without a growth plan.
Try something you are not good at. Something that does not fit your brand. Something you cannot put on a resume.
Do it badly. Do it slowly. Do it for no reason at all.
That is allowed. That might even be necessary.