My Obsession

I just got off the phone talking with my sister Lissa, a weekend indulgence I look forward to on Sunday nights. Part of our conversation was about our tendencies to have obsessions. We each have our "things." She said that some hobbies she simply cannot start at this point in her life because she knows she would let it take over too much of herself and her time. Wow, I'd say she's got pretty good self-control to stop it before it even starts! I admire her a lot.

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Me, on the other hand....sometimes I think I actively search for new adventures, hobbies, interests, anything that fills my life more needlessly than is wise. If I decide to start a small project, I cannot seem to pare it down to just ONE. I end up getting supplies for three of the same project, in different colors or patterns, or even better yet....how about five?!?! Because they will make perfect gifts, of course. Then it never fails, I am lucky to complete even one of them. The others end up gathering dust in the garage, along with all the tools and supplies needed to do them in the first place.

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One of my big time-wasters is reading. Now reading itself certainly isn't bad, it's just that the concept of moderation doesn't really exist in my world. When I am in the middle of a book, the house could be burning up around me and I still couldn't be bothered to place the bookmark and stop. I am completely absorbed, and nothing in my house gets accomplished until I am done with it.

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It is a weakness that I cherish and cannot seem to let go of.

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Last night I stayed up until 2:00 am because I couldn't put my book down. I wasn't even sleepy, lost all track of time. When I finally, regretfully turned the last page I looked at the clock and was shocked to see the time. But then I still didn't want it to truly be over, so I read all the author comments and discussion questions in the back of the book just to prolong my relationship with the characters just a little more. I knew I would pay for it today, and it was a struggle, but it was so worth it!

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How could I possibly give up the magic of entering another world, another reality, another existence that is different from my own? I learn something new from each experience, sometimes about other people and how to relate to them better, but more often than that, I learn something about myself. I can more clearly see who I am and who I want to be. Maybe I invest too much of my time in this self-indulgence, but I still feel the better for it.