One of my most comforting thoughts was: “It’s just a hobby.”

This thought worked especially well when DHL was dropping off another small, but emotionally significant package from Japan.

My hobby logic went like:

• I’m not still shopping. I’m researching.

• I’m not over consuming. I’m just trying to find my style.

• I’m not overthinking. I’m refining my taste.

I wasn’t leisurely exploring either. My “hobby” never ended and it never satisfied. I think there was some hope of “If I wear this, I will feel different about myself.” But that never lasted.

Calling it a hobby also made something stressful feel almost virtuous. Research, comparison, editing, and optimizing. My nervous system did not experience this as crocheting.

Real hobbies tend to expand your attention. This one narrowed mine to inseams, undertones, and pocket placement.

Things changed when I stopped calling it a hobby and started seeing it for what it was: I was mostly trying to regulate how I felt through clothing.

Less romantic but more honest.

And a lot fewer packages to emotionally process.