Having a hobby of some sort has been important to me for a long time. However, having a hobby has always represented more than having something to do with my spare time, or something I engage in just for pleasure. There is something about having a hobby that fulfills the need I have to constantly challenge my brain. That need to be challenged is also the reason why I have had such a wide variety of hobbies.
I enjoy learning things. I enjoy the challenge of filling my brain with new knowledge and going from being totally confused, to having a fairly complete understanding of something. My hobbies have ranged from cross stitch, to learning how to can my own food, and teaching myself how to crochet. I have also made my own beer and wine, raised chickens and rabbits, and spent over a year learning about herbs. Each one – in its own way – has been the challenge to my brain that I crave. The drawback to having the need to constantly be challenged, is that once I feel like a hobby is no longer fulfilling that need, I move onto something else. I am the queen of uncompleted projects, and left over hobby clutter.
One of the more interesting hobbies I took on was learning how to raise my own food, and how to can and freeze it. This hobby provided us with jars and jars of green beans, new potatoes, apple butter, pickles, and even pickled eggs. The pantry was not equipped to handle the influx of my canned goods. The only place I could think of to safely store all my hard work, was under my bed. Around my house, it was normal for me to ask the kids to “go get some food from under my bed.”
Our chickens were excellent egg producers. We had so many eggs coming in from our chickens, that every available space in the kitchen was filled with egg cartons and eggs. Eggs became a huge part of our diet. Deviled eggs, egg salad, eggs in tuna salad, eggs for breakfast, and eggs in my baking. I learned that it is possible to get tired of eating eggs. One way I found to use the eggs – without eating them – was to put them in an incubator and hatch chicks. My bathroom became a hatchery, and my hallway became a chick nursery. I realized my children enjoyed my hobby of hatching and raising chicks as much as I did, when my son – while we were at a local park – stuck some goose eggs in his pockets and put them in the incubator when we got home.
The hobby I have stuck with the longest is cross stitch. I started cross stitching fairly simple projects when I was around 17 or 18. The thing that kept me cross stitching for so many years, was that it remained challenging to me. As I progressed in my cross stitching proficiency, I tackled increasingly difficult patterns. Every time I took on a new project, I would get excited during the planning and preparation process. I could not wait to get started. Once I did, I would spend hours and hours every day cross stitching.
Crocheting has probably been my favorite hobby. Because I taught myself how to crochet, it has been extremely challenging from day one. Once I had mastered things like scarves and blankets, I taught myself how to make doilies – those are harder than you think – and took on projects that used special crochet knots. I think almost everyone in my family has something that I crocheted. One Christmas I made hats for some women at a local drug rehabilitation center. I also had the opportunity to teach my crochet hobby to those same woman. I really enjoyed that, however, I am not sure the women did. They quickly learned that if they did not follow the patterns I gave them – to practice with during the week – I would make them pull out all of their project, until they got to the point where they could fix their mistakes. Consequently, on the days I was supposed to teach, the women would go through great lengths to hide their projects from me.
There came a time in my life when nothing interested me. My hobbies were a thing of the past. I no longer had a desire to be challenged, or to learn anything new. I simply existed – barely. This was the time that I was experiencing a major depressive episode. It lasted for a very long time. When I started getting better, I fully expected – at some point – to feel the desire to start cross stitching or crocheting again. It never happened. Instead, I took on a new, and completely different hobby. Writing. Never before in my life have I enjoyed writing. The fact that I find it challenging and enjoyable now, has been a huge surprise to me. Pouring my heart out onto a computer screen has fulfilled more of my wants and needs than I anticipated it would.
I have a feeling that writing is going to be a hobby that I keep doing for the rest of my life. What I experience when I write, and how it makes me feel, is something different than I have ever encountered with any of my other hobbies. It does not just fill my need to be constantly challenged, but I also find it very soothing and relaxing. It allows me to have a creative outlet, and express my thoughts and feelings in the way I want to. There are no patterns for me to follow, and I am free to be as structured or unstructured as I want to be. It is wholly mine.
There are a lot of fellow bloggers that come here, read what I have written and sometimes even leave a comment. I know that I have not visited everyone’s sites. I would like to remedy that, and add some more bloggers to my reader. You can help me accomplish this.
As I write this, it is Saturday night and I have been in bed since about 7 pm. I am not feeling well and all I can think about is the sound my chest makes every time I breathe in and out. Sometimes it sounds like a high pitched train whistle, other times it sounds like a low rumble or gurgling. My chest is tight, and when I attempt to lay down, the tightness feels like it is increasing. If things do not turn around quickly, then I know where this is heading.
Years ago – before I married my husband and my son was very little – I spent many weekends driving in the North Georgia Mountains. Most of the time, I had no destination in mind, I just really enjoyed the driving. I could tune out the world by rolling the windows down, turning the music up, and concentrating on the next curve in the road. When my son was with me, I would often make unexpected stops. Adventures we called them. Sometimes we might go horse back riding, other times fishing, and there were times when we only stopped long enough to grab a bag of boiled peanuts. That aimless driving was a way for me to relieve my stress and refresh my mind.
I am very glad that I was able to be at my parents house when my mother had her surgery. I feel blessed that I have been able to do a few things for her. When I had originally made plans to be here at this time, she kept saying that she did not think she would need very much help. Her surgery was rather minor and the literature about it said that she would be able to resume normal activities right after the surgery. The literature was not quite accurate – at least in my mother’s case.
