How we keep up with hobbies on high-symptom days
Spoiler: Sometimes we don’t.
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I love to knit, and it brings me joy, but sometimes it feels impossible when my health makes it hard to use my hands or my brain. Any tips for keeping up with hobbies on high-symptom days?
Kat: This is something I struggle with because my main hobby is reading; but brain fog, difficulties with my short-term memory, and high levels of fatigue make written or auditory comprehension intolerable at times. For a while I let it bum me out, and you better believe I have had many a pity party on my couch where I scream, “CAN’T I JUST HAVE THIS ONE THING DAMMIT?” with wild, dramatic gesticulations. But then I started getting into the habit of engaging with things that are book adjacent: reading reviews that are on the shorter side, skimming roundups of upcoming releases and taking a million screenshots so I can remember to read them in the future, pruning my to-be-read lists on my local library account, or even watching a movie or TV show that’s based on a book (mostly so I can grumble how much better the book was). It very well may be the placebo effect, and something I’ve tricked my mind into believing, but it’s helped me greatly when my bookworm tendencies just aren’t in the cards because my brain just isn’t… braining.
Jess: Similar to Kat, my primary hobbies are reading and writing. I keep trying to get into audiobooks and podcasts for the high-symptom days, but I have some audio processing stuff going on so my brain just ends up going on its own adventure and then I miss at least half of what I’m supposed to be listening to — so I guess it works in keeping me distracted, but it also adds to that frustration of still not getting to do what I want to do. I’m learning it’s OK that one of my primary hobbies on high-symptom days is scrolling and just kinda… doing nothing. That it’s OK for my hobbies to go through phases — I read basically no fiction in November, and then sped through three fiction books in the first week of December. And that’s OK. (What’s not OK is that I keep starting books not realizing the next book in the series doesn’t come out for months, and then I leave myself on a cliffhanger. UGH.)
Skyler: I sure wish I had an answer for you! Unlike Kat, I’m still in the pity-party-of-one phase when it comes to hobbies. It’s probably the depressive episode (at what point does it stop being an episode and becomes an entire season?) talking, but I feel like a shell of my former self when it comes to hobbies. I used to perform, spend lots of time outdoors, play ukulele, work on my barista skills, take online courses for fun, read, crochet, photograph artwork and animals, try new foods, get creative with hair and makeup, have eight-hour Civilization sessions with friends — heck, even talk to my friends, in general — you get it. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what constitutes a hobby these days, but I am sure that my bare minimum participation in activities doesn’t count for anything.
Like I said, I’m still wallowing in a whole bunch of self-pity.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of that self-pity stems from feeling self-conscious, and the insecurities I have surrounding my capabilities and how my health affects my day-to-day life. Add in a dash of recovering from perfectionism, and you have a stew of negativity. I get so frustrated when a migraine attack prevents me from looking at screens or the pain in my finger joints makes crocheting or writing a non-starter. I hold out hope that one day I’ll return to tap and jazz dancing, but lumbar issues say otherwise. I’m embarrassed by the decrease in my reading speed due to a concussion in high school, OCD flare-ups, and the multitude of brain fog- and fatigue-inducing health conditions I have that the idea of picking up a book is too daunting.
I feel so much pressure and emotional turmoil when it comes to hobbies that I end up doing nothing. Saying “why bother” and not making a change takes a lot less effort than replaying the same escapist video game for the millionth time when chronic migraine allows.
Ash: Oh boy, as someone who does all of the hobbies, my answer may differ a bit from those who have favorites. I often call myself a jack-of-all-trades creative because I’m an artist of so many mediums. Art is a really important part of what makes me feel alive, so when my symptoms get in the way of it, I feel like a sunflower on an overcast day. For me, I rule out the hobbies I cannot do without hurting myself — whether that’s physically, or by creating when I’m not in a good headspace. For example, when my cramps make an appearance, sewing is off the table because it often requires a lot of standing and walking around, while editing photos is an easy task I can plop on the couch for. When my brain feels like being particularly mean to me, I know I shouldn’t edit photos because it’s hard to think through the emotions, and I often become unhappy with how my editing turns out. I can listen to an audiobook to overpower the intrusive thoughts instead. If something that often brings me joy feels hard, painful, or frustrating, I take it as a sign that it was not meant to be done in that moment. And if no activity feels good in the moment, it’s OK to simply rest until you feel ready to dive in once again.
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Welcome to Solicited Advice, our weekly column that celebrates the helpfulness in health. Because in a world where strangers at the grocery store love to tell you that a specific brand of magnesium will indeed “cure” what ails you (it probably won’t, so sorry), we’re all about passing on our lived experience in a way t…