Growing up I was a lucky person. I had a mother that wanted me to be good at not one thing, but many — and I had a mother that would make me try a lot of different activities without forcing me to do a single one.
Growing up, particularly after my teenage years, I resented my mother and grandmother for not being harder on me and forcing me to focus on a single hobby. I was mostly jealous of all those people who had that one thing that took them places and that they excelled at. Those athletes or insane chess players — the people who travel around the world representing their sport an the people that were or are really good at a certain something.
Later in life though, I was a little glad that this was not the case. As I said at the beginning of this post, I was lucky enough to try a lot of activities in my life, and while I managed to be good or decent at some of them, I completely am useless in others, and that is perfectly fine. In my life I learned what activities were for me and which ones were not. I learned to love what I truly love and to give opportunities to the things that I am usually not fond of.
Most importantly, I learned to like my hobbies, to be good at them, and to know when to move on to the next thing. My main hobby when I started working after university was collecting keyboards — and that was a hobby that I did well. After I got into a relationship and my priorities vastly changed, keyboards remained in the backburner, only to surface once more in recent times as I have gotten more and more into odd boards.
Every moment that I get myself a new hobby is a moment worth remembering, and every new hobby is a tool that helps me be a fuller person. From the keyboards that I type in to the bickepacking I exercise through — every little moment with them makes life much mor enjoyable.