When I was a kid, I absolutely loved trains.
I was that weird kid who loved them for some reason. I still don’t know why. We all knew one of them. I just had this little obsession that I was content with.
I had model train sets galore all around my room. I had little train figures and watched videos of them.
It was something of a novelty to everyone around me. But it was cute. I mean, who doesn’t like a cute little kid?
But then I decided I was done. I was ready for something new.
And then it came to me.
I saw a bright yellow glow, lots of vibrant primary colors and a big blocky sign that said ‘The LEGO Store’.
I know, another basic kid obsession. But I was really into them. I literally spent over a thousand dollars on Legos before I was 12. It was wild.
My room was lined with all the Lego sets I built. It kinda reminded me of one of those houses on “Hoarders”, except not as gross. I had a big bin full of random Lego pieces from all of the sets and yard sales I rummaged through.
Oddly enough, building the sets didn’t make me particularly happy. I get bored pretty quickly, and Legos aren’t the most captivating toy in the world. But I loved the look of the finished product.
But then, the inevitable struck.
I decided Legos no longer cut it. They just didn’t fill me up like they used to.
So I sold every single set I could on Facebook Marketplace and cleared my room once again to make space for my next big obsession.
It had to be interesting, something that kept my attention. Something artsy.
Something like clay.
I got all the supplies I needed. Guides, background music, expensive sculpting tools and of course, lots of bakeable clay.
Hobby Lobby was my church, classic pop was my gospel and youtube DIYs were my bible. I sat in a makeshift studio for hours after school each day, making everything from videogame and movie characters to ordinary objects.
I brought my creations to school (hi Mill Creek kids) and proudly showed them off. Not everyone appreciated my obviously “masterful work”, but I didn’t care. I just knew what I liked.
Until I didn’t.
I completely ran out of ideas, and motivation, to keep my little hobby up and running. So I did what I usually do.
I dropped it.
I moved on to drawing. And then chemistry. Then law.
Video games.
College.
Art.
I’ve had so many obsessions I can’t even count. They’ve taken over my world one by one. All of them occupied space, in one way or another, during each era of my life.
But they all stopped around sophomore year.
It was different, more complex. All of a sudden, I had lots of things I wanted to obsess over. So many new shiny things to look at. I was in every club, at every meeting.
But for once, I actually got… tired. Not bored, just tired.
Tired of always having something to obsess over. Tired of always having something to think about. Why did I have to obsess over 12 different things instead of just focusing on three or four?
I couldn’t do it anymore.
So I did one final drop. I dropped everything I didn’t need. Anything that didn’t really fill me up and satisfy me.
And, I’m happy to say, it’s been working out pretty well so far. I don’t obsess, and I try not to get to overcommitted. Sure, sometimes I still chase the next new toy, but now I always catch myself before I take it too far.
