My goodness, it’s already January 6^th. How are we all feeling? How many of us are relieved the holidays are over? I’ve been ready to get back to work for awhile now. See. I’ve finally admitted some key facts about myself to myself. Let me offer a few stories for context.

Seven years ago, I sat around a dinner table in some restaurant in Tokyo with three friends from high school. One had just admitted he traveled with three stuffed animals. He showed us photos. Three small animals—the only one I remember is an eagle—were propped up by his pillow. The three of us howled with laughter while he insisted this was normal behavior for a 50-year-old man. He came up with an article “for proof” he said, indeed showing the statistic ¼ of men who travel for work take a stuffed animal with them. We laughed harder.

I mention this gathering, because this is the night I realized I don’t have a hobby. Rather, this is when I was told I don’t have a hobby. I said my hobby was reading and was similarly mocked for thinking something “we all do” would be a hobby. I balked, they stood firm.

Secretly, this was the first time that I acknowledged to myself like what I do so much I consider that a hobby. I didn’t share that because they didn’t need to know. Instead, I stuck with, “reading is indeed a hobby!” and kept the mock argument going. Work as a hobby? Do I consider this a blessing or a curse? I enjoy what I do so much I make a living out of it. Why would that be a curse?

Loving what I do so much that I do it all the time means I’m always thinking about work. Ideas, writing, research, write again and write more—these are my happy moments. I can see for some people this would be draining. “You’re always thinking about work!” would indeed be an apt accusation. Is it draining for me? Not when I’m on a roll. Yes, when I’m stuck, angry, disappointed (again), frustrated, or tired. I seem to be in this camp recently. I’m always tired. My anger never completely goes away, and that exhausts me. Add to this, there’s so much I am angry about that I can never seem to ignore it.

At the dinner table seven years ago, embarrassment and defensiveness were the two main sentiments. Today, I work as a hobby, and my hobby is my work. This year I’ve decided to see this hobby-work relationship as a blessing. I like what I do. Lucky me, for getting paid to do what I love! I’ll keep working on my anger as I see that taking longer to work through.

Aging has perks, people. That’s the other thing I’ll be talking a lot about in 2025. I’m loving the woman I’m becoming. To sincerely give no shits about what most others think or feel about me—good grief—what a gift.