As the year winds down, there’s a natural pull to reflect on what was, what is, and what could be. For families affected by a loved one’s mental health or substance use struggles, this season can feel especially heavy. Setting goals or even imagining a brighter new year might seem impossible when just surviving each day feels like an accomplishment.
But what if, this December, instead of focusing outward, you gave yourself permission to reconnect with the simple joys that nourish you? I know—it sounds indulgent, maybe even impossible. But let me share what I’ve learned about how vital those small moments of joy can be.
Losing Ourselves in the Struggle
For years, I thought I had to dedicate every ounce of myself to saving my son. My identity became wrapped up in managing his needs, his choices, and my fear for his future. And while I believed I was doing it out of love, I can now see how much I was losing in the process—not just my hobbies, but my sense of self.
Knitting? Tennis? Back then, they felt like luxuries I couldn’t afford, distractions from the work of "fixing" things. Even worse, I realized that when I did engage in activities, it was often to punish myself—pushing too hard in ways that drained rather than recharged me.
But everything changed when I chose to reframe those activities as a way to honor my own needs, to celebrate who I was beyond the crisis at home. Slowly, I rediscovered the healing power of hobbies.
Rediscovering Joy Through Hobbies
It started with two simple activities: tennis and knitting. Tennis gave me a way to move my body in a way that wasn’t about winning or proving something—it was just about being in the moment. Knitting, on the other hand, became my quiet retreat. Sitting with yarn and needles in my hands, I found calm in the repetitive motion, a welcome pause from the constant noise of fear and uncertainty.
Neither activity was about being good at it or impressing anyone. And that’s what made them so powerful. They reminded me that I could still find joy, curiosity, and creativity—without having to prove my effort or outcome of success.
Why Do We Let These Joys Slip Away?
For many of us, guilt takes over. How can I sit and knit when my child is in crisis? How can I go for a walk when my loved one won’t even get out of bed? But waiting for the perfect time—waiting until things are better—isn’t realistic. The truth is, you don’t need permission to honor yourself.
Sometimes, we’re also stopped by exhaustion or fear. The idea of picking up a paintbrush or playing a game of tennis might feel impossible when you’re already drained. But here’s what I’ve come to understand: joy isn’t a luxury—it’s fuel. Without it, we burn out completely. And when that happens, we have nothing left to give.
Reclaiming What Matters
Think back to a time before the struggles dominated your life. What brought you joy? Gardening? Playing an instrument? Baking? That version of you isn’t gone; it’s just waiting beneath the surface. If nothing comes to mind, that’s okay, too. Starting something new can be just as powerful.
When I picked up a tennis racket for the first time, I had no idea what I was doing. And my knitting? Full of dropped stitches. But it wasn’t about being perfect—it was about giving myself permission to try. Over time, those small steps became a bridge back to myself, a way to reconnect with who I was beyond the crisis.
I know the obstacles are real—guilt, exhaustion, fear. But here’s the thing: taking time for yourself isn’t selfish. It’s necessary. It’s what allows you to stay steady and show up in healthier, more meaningful ways.
Start small. Five minutes of sketching. Planting a single flower. Trying out that cookie recipe you’ve been eyeing. Even a short walk in the crisp December air can feel like a reset.
For me, it began with those first imperfect steps: a clumsy Sunday tennis game and a crooked knitting project. They didn’t seem like much at the time, but over the weeks and months, they gave me back something I didn’t even realize I’d lost—myself.
What small joy could you reclaim? This isn’t about distracting yourself from their struggles—it’s about remembering that you, too, deserve to feel alive.
This is your time. You’ve carried so much, but you don’t have to carry it all. Rediscovering your hobbies is one way to lighten the load and remind yourself that even in the hardest seasons, YOU are still within reach.
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