May 10, 2012
The death of a hobby
I feel that way now. When I do have spare time (and that feels somewhat rare these days) I find myself spending that time doing different things. I write more. I play with Tommy - because how many invitations do I really have left for going into his room to play trucks and build tents? I read or exercise or bake.
For a long time though, I enjoyed scrapbooking. I feel at home in my skin when I'm cutting paper and using glue and finding the perfect trinkets and ribbons to give one single moment in time the glory I feel it deserves. I find pleasure and enjoyment out of embellishing these memories that I've made. And I consider myself a creative and artistic person - scrapbooking always felt like it was my thing.
It's been years since I've had the time to do any scrapbooking though. The pictures I've posted here are from 2007. And when I do have time to be crafty, I'd rather make wreaths or something for my house instead. As much as I've wanted to hold on to all of this stuff I've collected for a hobby that's basically no longer existent, I've decided I need to let it go. And that letting it go is okay.
For the past few months I've been in de-clutter and simplify mode. Figuring out what I can live without, what is practical and makes sense. And what things I'm holding on to and why.
For my scrapbooking things, I think I've been holding on to it because I've been convinced that life will drastically change and I will suddenly have all the time in the world to sit with mounds of paper and stickers and what-nots and perfectly album all of it. And when I was honest with myself, I realized that even if life did provide the kind of time that scrapbooking takes, I would rather be spending that time doing something else.
So I'm boxing it up. Keeping a few essentials for future crafty projects. And the rest of it will go to the highest bidder on Craigslist.
As for the magnitude of pictures in my possession, I'm thinking of just putting them in regular photo albums. And as time permits, making some special notes on the back of certain photos. That feels realistic. That, I have time for.
And I'm not exactly sure why, but realizing that I've grown out of a hobby - this one especially, where I carefully and beautifully have preserved some of the memories I've made - makes me feel a little sad.