November 27, 2025 • 36 mins
At some point, we stopped finger-painting and started filing taxes, and honestly? I think that was a mistake. Remember when you used to lose hours making up dance routines, narrating Barbie soap operas, or building elaborate stick forts like you were training for a post-apocalyptic HGTV special? That wasn't wasted time- that was you, unfiltered. Before the productivity cult got you. Before your calendar looked like a game of Tetris, and joy got shoved into the "maybe Saturday" column, right between laundry and existential dread. Somewhere along the way, we got the message that fun is for kids and adulthood is for suffering quietly with a reusable water bottle and mild back pain.
Today's prompt is "Think back to when you were a child. What activities or hobbies made you lose track of time? How can you incorporate those passions into your adult life?" It's a chance to remember who you were before the world told you who to be. So grab your journal, find a quiet spot, and let's revisit that magic.
You can email questions in to Michelle@ONeilCounseling.com and I'm going to compile them all into a bonus episode with your questions and my answers!
Join us on the O'Neil Counseling app here: https://www.oneilcounseling.com/app-landing-page
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:01):
At some point we stopped finger painting and started filing
taxes, and honestly, I think that was a mistake.
Remember when you used to lose hours making up dance routines,
narrating Barbie soap operas, orbuilding elaborate stick forts
like you were training for a post apocalyptic HGTV special?
(00:25):
That wasn't wasted time. That was you, unfiltered, before
the productivity cult got you, before your calendar looked like
a game of Tetris and joy got shoved into the maybe Saturday
column, right between laundry and existential dread.
(00:46):
Somewhere along the way, we got the message that fun is for kids
and adulthood is for suffering quietly with a reusable water
bottle and mild back pain. But what if this stuff that lit
us up as kids wasn't just fluff?What if it was a neon sign
(01:08):
pointing toward who we actually are before we learned how to
tone it down and be realistic? Today we're flipping off the
grind culture for a second and reconnecting with that messy,
passionate, possibly bedazzled version of you who knew how to
(01:30):
feel things. The one who wasn't worried about
being good at it or turning it into a side hustle.
They were just doing the thing because it made time disappear.
And guess what? That version of you isn't gone.
(01:51):
They're just buried under emailsand low grade burnout.
Let's get into it. Remember when time used to
disappear not because you were doom scrolling or stuck in
(02:16):
back-to-back meetings, but because you were just in it,
fully immersed, covered in glitter glue, digging in the
dirt, dancing in your room like you were headlining a world tour
for an audience of stuffed animals?
(02:37):
You weren't doing it for the likes or money or LinkedIn
endorsements. You were doing it because it
made you feel alive. Somewhere along the way,
adulthood showed up with its full in boxes and sensible shoes
and told us there wasn't time for that anymore, that our
(02:58):
passions had to be productive orprofitable or mature.
And so we shelved them. We outgrew joy like it was a
phase. But what if those moments, the
ones where time vanished and your soul lit up, weren't just
(03:22):
childhood fluff? What if they were bread crumbs,
little glowing hints about what still matters to you?
Today's prompt is think back to when you were a child.
(03:43):
What activities or hobbies made you lose track of time?
How can you incorporate those passions into your adult life?
It's a chance to remember who you were before the world told
you who to be. So grab your journal, find a
(04:06):
quiet spot, and let's revisit that magic.
So what did you used to lose hours doing before capitalism
and adult responsibilities came in like a Wrecking Ball?
And no, staring at the ceiling fan dramatically doesn't count,
(04:27):
though. Respect.
Maybe you were the kid who doodled on every surface that
wasn't nailed down. Textbooks, jeans, your siblings,
homework. That artistic itch?
It doesn't just evaporate with age.
Bust out a sketchbook, try digital art, or sign up for a
(04:51):
painting class where no one cares if it looks like a
Pinterest fail. Or maybe you were the
architectural genius of couch forks and Lego empires that love
for building it still counts, even if now it looks like IKEA
(05:11):
hats, home DIY's, or crafting weird little models while
blasting A nostalgic playlist. Were you the tiny author
scribbling epic adventures or angsty poems about your
goldfish? Cool, because that storyteller
(05:34):
is still in there. Start a blog, write a messy
short story, or let yourself fall back into journaling
without worrying if it's productive.
If you were the feral child who was always up a tree covered in
(05:54):
grass stains and one mosquito bite away from chaos, maybe your
joy lives in hiking, gardening, or just touching grass regularly
without making it a chore. Love video games?
Guess what, You don't have to outgrow them.
(06:14):
Whether it's designing your own streaming just for the hell of
it or carving out time to play guilt free, joy is still joy,
even if it's pixelated. And if music was your thing,
whether it was singing into a hair brush or playing an
(06:35):
instrument like you were auditioning for a garage band
that never rehearsed, reconnect with that.
Pick up an old instrument, make a playlist that feels like
middle school, or find a local open mic and do it badly on
purpose. The point isn't to monetize it
(06:57):
or be amazing at it. The point is, your younger self
knew what lit you up, so maybe it's time to stop waiting for
permission and just go light that match again.
All right, so now that we've officially called BS on the idea
(07:21):
that childhood passions should be boxed up and stored next to
your old Beanie Babies and your collection of participation
participation ribbons, let's rewind the tape a little
further. Step one is all about
remembering not just what you did, but who you were before
(07:42):
adulthood handed you a planner, a tight jaw, and a mild anxiety
disorder that now double S as your personality trait.
Think back to what used to make hours vanish like socks in the
dryer. Was it climbing trees like you
were training for the Squirrel Olympics?
(08:05):
Making up dramatic soap opera plot lines for your stuffed
animals that would put Grey's Anatomy to shame?
Drawing fire breathing Dragons in the margins of your math
homework because fractions were clearly not your calling?
That wasn't just kids stuff. That was your brain, your soul,
(08:28):
your whole unfiltered self goingyes, more of this, please.
What were you obsessed with before the world handed you the
realistic checklist? Before success was measured in
KPIs and you learned the word networking and flinched every
(08:52):
time someone said it? Was it storytelling?
Adventure, puzzles, music, moving your body without turning
it into a workout, quiet creativity, full blown chaos, or
something in between. This is the part where you on
(09:16):
earth not evaluate. You're not judging whether you
were good at it. You're not editing your
childhood joy through an adult lens that's been fogged up by
expectations and spreadsheets. You're just getting curious
because that tiny gremlin glitter sticky version of you
(09:40):
had it figured out. At least when it came to joy, to
presence, to flow. They weren't optimizing their
hobbies for Instagram or trying to make a brand out of finger
painting. They were just being weird,
(10:03):
wonderful, and wildly alive. So give them the mic for a
minute. Let them remind you what it felt
like to do something just for the love of it.
That's the beginning. That's step one.
(10:24):
And yeah, it might feel silly ornostalgic or like you're trying
to summon a ghost, but sometimesthat ghost holds the blueprint.
And once you've dusted off thosememories, cracked open the
nostalgia vault and peeked in like you're diffusing A glitter
(10:48):
bomb, take it one step further. How did it feel to be in that
zone? Like, really feel it.
Was there, this weird calm that washed over you when you were
(11:08):
fully immersed, so focused that the rest of the world kind of
blurred out, like background noise on mute?
Did it make you feel free? Energized.
Did it light up your brain like a pinball machine in the best
(11:31):
possible way? Or maybe it made you feel safe,
Like I can exist exactly as I amin this moment, and no one is
asking me to be smaller, quieter, or more productive.
Maybe it was the one time your overthinking brain shut the hell
(11:54):
up and let you just exist. Not as a performer or a problem
solver or a people pleaser, but as a full human being doing
something you genuinely loved. Those feelings?
Yeah, they're still around. They didn't just disappear just
(12:16):
because you started paying billsor now own multiple tote bags
for errands. They're still valid, still
available, still tucked somewhere underneath your daily
chaos, your mental tabs, and probably a crumbled receipt for
something you forgot you bought.The thing is, joy doesn't just
(12:41):
evaporate, it gets buried under expectations.
And this, this is your chance todig.
No pressure, no Gold Star, no need to make it count.
Just a moment, a journal, and some curious self inventory
(13:08):
about what made your soul do a happy dance before life told it
to sit down and act normal. Because, spoiler alert, your
soul never wanted normal. It wanted wonder.
And that feeling? You're allowed to chase it
(13:29):
again. Hell, you're allowed to demand
it. OK, now that you've unearthed
your childhood greatest hits, complete with grass stains,
glitter glue, and fashion choices that can only be
described as chaotic good, it's time to put on your detective
(13:49):
hat. But not the trench coat and
magnifying glass kind. No, we're talking emotionally
intelligent sleuthing. Think Sherlock Holmes with
feelings. Because beneath every cardboard
Fort, treehouse escapade or impromptu living room concert
(14:13):
was a need being met. A real, human soul level need.
So take a step back and look at the patterns.
Squint at them like you're trying to read your old diary
without cringing. What did those activities
(14:38):
actually give you? Was it a sense of freedom, doing
something entirely on your own terms without rules timers, or
that sinking sense that you weresupposed to be somewhere else?
Was it pure creative expression where your brain could go full
(15:01):
gremlin and just make stuff without worrying whether it was
good? Maybe it was the joy of problem
solving, figuring out how to keep your blanket port from
collapsing, or inventing entire games with rules only you
understood. And let's be honest, that hit
(15:23):
different than trying to troubleshoot a broken Wi-Fi
connection while your microwave screams at you.
Or maybe what you were chasing was connection, not just with
people, but with ideas, with nature, with something bigger
(15:44):
than yourself or independence. A way to say this is mine, I
made this, I chose this. Or maybe it was just a solid
wholesome dopamine rush that didn't come from caffeine,
(16:04):
TikTok, or finally getting to inbox 0.
The point is, this wasn't randomchaos, it was you crafting A
blueprint for joy before you even knew what the hell that
meant. So as you dig through the
highlights reel of your tiny, weird, brilliant self, start
(16:29):
mapping those themes. Because those core needs, they
didn't disappear, you just got better at ignoring them.
But not today. Today we notice.
We name. We give those themes a seat at
(16:52):
the table because they've been trying to get your attention
this whole time. Because, spoiler alert, those
weren't just random hobbies. They weren't just what you did
to kill time before dinner or keep busy on weekends.
(17:16):
They were cloops. Glorious, sticky fingered, neon
bright clues about what made youfeel something real.
Joy, Curiosity, Autonomy, presence, wonder, all those big
(17:38):
soul level values hidden inside messy play and imagination
fueled chaos And the values behind them?
They still matter. Or at least they could if we'd
stop locking them away in the dusty childhood vault like
(17:59):
they're too immature to survive the adult world.
Newsflash, they are not immature.
They're essential. They're what makes us feel alive
under all the layers of burnout,budgeting, and pretending to
care about group texts. So now's your chance to connect
(18:21):
the dots. Zoom out a little.
Look at your childhood passions like a tangled constellation of
glitter glue, sidewalk chalk, and late night Lego builds.
What patterns do you see? What vibes show up over and over
again? Maybe it's curiosity,
(18:43):
creativity, solitude, movement, collaboration.
Maybe it's a craving for freedomor structure, or a place to put
all your weird, beautiful thoughts.
More importantly, what's still calling to you?
(19:07):
What's whispering underneath thenoise of responsibilities,
unread emails, and yet another conversation about what's for
dinner? What have you been craving but
convincing yourself you don't have time for or shouldn't care
about anymore? Listen, your inner child may be
(19:29):
wearing light up sneakers and covered in popsicle juice, but
don't let the aesthetic fool you.
They've got serious, grown up wisdom.
They were tuned in before life taught you how to tune out,
before you learned how to prioritize what was useful over
(19:50):
what was meaningful. And they've been patiently
waiting for you to stop scrolling long enough to
remember. So let's listen.
Let's reconnect. Let's stop ghosting the parts of
ourselves that actually knew howto live.
(20:13):
All right, so you've connected the dots.
Spotted the themes and possibly realized you were a tiny genius
who understood joy better than your current burnout riddled,
calendar worshipping self. Cute for past you, mildly
humbling for present you. But here's the $1,000,000
(20:36):
question. Don't worry, it's rhetorical.
No actual dollars involved. How do you bring that magic back
without turning it into a productivity project, a personal
brand, or the latest addition toyour overachiever Pinterest
board? Because here's the deal.
(21:00):
Just because you're not 8 anymore doesn't mean you've lost
your right to do things purely for the hell of it.
You can still get weird with a glue stick.
You can still build stuff with 0practical value.
You can still spend a suspiciousamount of time outside
pretending you're the main character in a whimsical indie
(21:22):
film. The world might not hand out
stickers for it, but your nervous system will thank you.
The key is translation, figuringout how to sneak those old
passions into your adult life without setting off your
internal, this feels frivolous alarm.
(21:45):
And no, you don't have to quit your job and move into an artist
commune. Unless that's your thing, in
which case carry on. I'm talking bite sized joy.
Little moments you can actually fit in between doing laundry and
spiraling about the state of theworld.
(22:06):
Start small, like 10 minutes small.
Doodle in the margins of your planner, take a walk and let
your brain off the leash. No podcasts, no emails, just
vibes. Write a journal entry like it's
a scene from the sitcom version of your childhood.
(22:29):
Buy some modeling clay and make something wildly useless and
deeply satisfying. Host a theme night with your
friends where everyone shows up as their 8 year old selves and
eats snacks shaped like dinosaurs.
Hell, join a class, take an improv workshop, sign up for a
(22:49):
painting night, Go to that weirdly specific book club that
only reads fantasy novels about sentient plants.
There are entire communities of adult humans out there trying to
reconnect with joy, and they arejust as weird and wonderful as
you. And listen closely.
(23:13):
You don't have to be good at it.You don't need to monetize it.
You don't need to make a real about it.
You're allowed to do something badly just because it makes your
insides feel a little bit more alive.
That's not regression. That's healing.
(23:37):
The world will keep spinning, whether you make a lopsided
scarf, start a playlist of songsyou loved in 2002, or build a
Lego village in your living room.
But you you might start to feel more like yourself again.
And here's your official permission slip, written in
(24:01):
metaphorical crayon and signed by your inner child.
You do not have to be good at it.
Read that again. I'm going to read that again.
You're going to listen to it again.
Let it marinate. You don't have to be good at it.
(24:23):
Because somewhere along the line, joy got hijacked by
perfectionism and suddenly everyhobby had to have an audience, A
monetization plan, and a matching aesthetic.
Seriously, this is not a talent show.
(24:45):
No one's holding up scorecards. There's no Gold Star for best
adult doing a whimsical thing. No one's going to come in and
say, oh sorry, your knitting's uneven.
You're banned from happiness. It's not about impressing anyone
or building a personal brand. It's about you doing something
(25:09):
that lights up your insides a little, even if it looks
ridiculous from the outside. This isn't about productivity.
It's not about outcomes. It's not even about getting
better at it. It's about remembering that
(25:30):
things like fun, curiosity, creativity and play aren't
extra. They're essential.
They are human needs. Right up there with water,
memes, sunlight, and avoiding people who say let's circle back
(25:52):
like it's a threat. And joy.
Real joy. It's messy.
It's a little weird. It often involves glitter, bad
karaoke, or making a fool of yourself in the best possible
way. But it also brings you back to
(26:15):
yourself. It softens the edges.
It makes life feel a little lesslike A to do list and a little
more like something worth wakingup for.
So go do something utterly pointless.
Finger paint with no plan. Dance in your kitchen to music
(26:39):
you'd be embarrassed to admit you still love.
Write a haiku about your dog. Start a project you have 0
intention of finishing. Let it be imperfect.
Let it be yours. Because if it makes you feel
even a tiny bit more alive, that's not wasting time.
(27:04):
That's reclaiming it. That's the assignment.
OK, you've done the emotional excavation, uncovered the golden
Nuggets of childhood joy, maybe even caught yourself Googling
adult piano lessons near me while spiraling through a
(27:24):
playlist of 2000s nostalgia. Love that for you, truly.
You're out here reconnecting with your original programming,
the version of you that knew howto have fun without overthinking
it or turning it into a LinkedInpost.
(27:44):
Now comes the real magic, the follow through, not the
performative New Year's Resolution version where you
spend $48 on a bullet journal you'll abandoned by February.
We're not doing that. This is about setting a
(28:04):
realistic shame. Free obligation, light
intention, something small enough to actually do, but
meaningful enough to matter. You don't need a five year plan.
You don't need a mood board or an accountability buddy or a new
(28:27):
identity centered around becoming a person who takes
improv classes. Now you just need to say, hey,
I'm going to do this one small thing because it brings me joy.
That's it. That's the bar, and it's
deliciously low. Pick one passion.
(28:52):
Just one something little you would be thrilled to see you
trying again. Finger painting, roller skating,
singing in the car like your headlining Coachella, reading
fantasy novels in bed with snacks.
(29:14):
It doesn't have to make sense toanyone else.
It just has to make you feel like you're slipping joy into
your schedule, like emotional contraband smuggled between doom
scrolling, dishwashing, and pretending to understand your
insurance. And here's your compass, your
(29:35):
vibe check, your joy GPS. How do you want to feel while
doing it? Playful, creative, free like
your soul just got handed a juice box and told Recess was
back on that feeling. That's your North Star.
(30:02):
Follow it, chase it like it owesyou money.
You don't have to fix your wholelife, you just have to sneak a
little joy back into it. One doodle.
What? Walk one weird little hobby at a
time. That's the beginning.
(30:26):
That's enough. And honestly, that's where the
magic happens. So let's make it official.
Not just a passing thought or a yeah I should do that sometime
that vanishes into the mental clutter alongside forgotten
(30:47):
passwords and half written grocery lists.
Nope. Grab a pen, write it down, say
it out loud to your house plants, your cat, your
reflection in the microwave, whoever is available.
Because this is it. This is the moment where your
(31:08):
inner child stops being just a wistful memory and officially
gets a seat at the grown up table.
This isn't about pretending yourlife is suddenly whimsical and
unburdened. It's about making space.
Just enough space for joy to squeeze in next to your
(31:28):
deadlines and that suspicious pile of laundry you keep
ignoring. It's about saying, hey, adulting
is exhausting, but I can still do one small thing that makes my
soul exhale. So pick your thing, your one
(31:51):
little act of rebellion against the idea that joy has to be
earned or scheduled months in advance.
Maybe it's painting badly or dancing terribly or taking a
class you have no business beingin, but you show up anyway
(32:11):
because it makes you laugh. Maybe it's just giving yourself
10 blessed minutes a day to not be useful and just be you.
Let's set the intention and see what happens.
(32:33):
Worst case, you feel slightly ridiculous and your houseplant
judges you, which, honestly, it's kind of charming.
Best case, you reconnect with something real, something you
forgot was still in you, something that makes you feel
like yourself again, but more rooted, more awake, more you.
(33:02):
And honestly, that's the kind ofridiculous we could all use more
of. And there we have it, friends.
You've time travelled through your childhood memories, decoded
the secret language of your old obsessions, and maybe even
(33:23):
dusted off a long forgotten dream involving sidewalk chalk
or interpretive dance. You've gone full emotional
archaeologist and what you dug up?
That stuff matters. Because joy isn't something
we're supposed to grow out of, it's something we're meant to
(33:43):
grow with. And if your younger self could
see you now, doing the work, setting intentions, sneaking in
tiny pockets of wonder between dentist appointments and
existential spirals, they'd probably high 5, you know, or
(34:05):
throw glitter at you. Or both.
So here's your challenge, your invitation, your neon flashing
nudge from the universe. Bring one of those passions back
to life. Not to be productive, not to
make it make sense. Just because it feels good.
(34:30):
Because joy, play and curiosity aren't a luxury.
They're a lifeline. And you're allowed to grab hold
of them. Even on a Tuesday.
If this episode gave you something to think about or
laugh about or cry about in the nostalgic section of Target, go
(34:55):
ahead and share it with someone who needs a little nudge to
reconnect with their inner ChaosGoblin, too.
Don't forget to rate, review, and subscribe to Shrink Wrapped
wherever you get your podcasts, Spotify, Apple, Amazon,
iHeartRadio, or the O'Neill Counseling app.
Speaking of which, hop into the app to connect with other
(35:18):
listeners, join the conversation, and maybe even
share your childhood passion that you're bringing back.
Yes, macaroni art absolutely counts.
Thanks for pushing play on Shrink Wrapped.
Pop in next week when we're DSM diving into the mental adventure
that is borderline personality disorder.
(35:42):
And remember, you're doing better than you think.
Now go do something completely pointless and wildly joyful.
You've earned it.
At some point we stopped finger painting and started filing
taxes, and honestly, I think that was a mistake.
Remember when you used to lose hours making up dance routines,
narrating Barbie soap operas, orbuilding elaborate stick forts
like you were training for a post apocalyptic HGTV special?
(00:25):
That wasn't wasted time. That was you, unfiltered, before
the productivity cult got you, before your calendar looked like
a game of Tetris and joy got shoved into the maybe Saturday
column, right between laundry and existential dread.
(00:46):
Somewhere along the way, we got the message that fun is for kids
and adulthood is for suffering quietly with a reusable water
bottle and mild back pain. But what if this stuff that lit
us up as kids wasn't just fluff?What if it was a neon sign
(01:08):
pointing toward who we actually are before we learned how to
tone it down and be realistic? Today we're flipping off the
grind culture for a second and reconnecting with that messy,
passionate, possibly bedazzled version of you who knew how to
(01:30):
feel things. The one who wasn't worried about
being good at it or turning it into a side hustle.
They were just doing the thing because it made time disappear.
And guess what? That version of you isn't gone.
(01:51):
They're just buried under emailsand low grade burnout.
Let's get into it. Remember when time used to
disappear not because you were doom scrolling or stuck in
(02:16):
back-to-back meetings, but because you were just in it,
fully immersed, covered in glitter glue, digging in the
dirt, dancing in your room like you were headlining a world tour
for an audience of stuffed animals?
(02:37):
You weren't doing it for the likes or money or LinkedIn
endorsements. You were doing it because it
made you feel alive. Somewhere along the way,
adulthood showed up with its full in boxes and sensible shoes
and told us there wasn't time for that anymore, that our
(02:58):
passions had to be productive orprofitable or mature.
And so we shelved them. We outgrew joy like it was a
phase. But what if those moments, the
ones where time vanished and your soul lit up, weren't just
(03:22):
childhood fluff? What if they were bread crumbs,
little glowing hints about what still matters to you?
Today's prompt is think back to when you were a child.
(03:43):
What activities or hobbies made you lose track of time?
How can you incorporate those passions into your adult life?
It's a chance to remember who you were before the world told
you who to be. So grab your journal, find a
(04:06):
quiet spot, and let's revisit that magic.
So what did you used to lose hours doing before capitalism
and adult responsibilities came in like a Wrecking Ball?
And no, staring at the ceiling fan dramatically doesn't count,
(04:27):
though. Respect.
Maybe you were the kid who doodled on every surface that
wasn't nailed down. Textbooks, jeans, your siblings,
homework. That artistic itch?
It doesn't just evaporate with age.
Bust out a sketchbook, try digital art, or sign up for a
(04:51):
painting class where no one cares if it looks like a
Pinterest fail. Or maybe you were the
architectural genius of couch forks and Lego empires that love
for building it still counts, even if now it looks like IKEA
(05:11):
hats, home DIY's, or crafting weird little models while
blasting A nostalgic playlist. Were you the tiny author
scribbling epic adventures or angsty poems about your
goldfish? Cool, because that storyteller
(05:34):
is still in there. Start a blog, write a messy
short story, or let yourself fall back into journaling
without worrying if it's productive.
If you were the feral child who was always up a tree covered in
(05:54):
grass stains and one mosquito bite away from chaos, maybe your
joy lives in hiking, gardening, or just touching grass regularly
without making it a chore. Love video games?
Guess what, You don't have to outgrow them.
(06:14):
Whether it's designing your own streaming just for the hell of
it or carving out time to play guilt free, joy is still joy,
even if it's pixelated. And if music was your thing,
whether it was singing into a hair brush or playing an
(06:35):
instrument like you were auditioning for a garage band
that never rehearsed, reconnect with that.
Pick up an old instrument, make a playlist that feels like
middle school, or find a local open mic and do it badly on
purpose. The point isn't to monetize it
(06:57):
or be amazing at it. The point is, your younger self
knew what lit you up, so maybe it's time to stop waiting for
permission and just go light that match again.
All right, so now that we've officially called BS on the idea
(07:21):
that childhood passions should be boxed up and stored next to
your old Beanie Babies and your collection of participation
participation ribbons, let's rewind the tape a little
further. Step one is all about
remembering not just what you did, but who you were before
(07:42):
adulthood handed you a planner, a tight jaw, and a mild anxiety
disorder that now double S as your personality trait.
Think back to what used to make hours vanish like socks in the
dryer. Was it climbing trees like you
were training for the Squirrel Olympics?
(08:05):
Making up dramatic soap opera plot lines for your stuffed
animals that would put Grey's Anatomy to shame?
Drawing fire breathing Dragons in the margins of your math
homework because fractions were clearly not your calling?
That wasn't just kids stuff. That was your brain, your soul,
(08:28):
your whole unfiltered self goingyes, more of this, please.
What were you obsessed with before the world handed you the
realistic checklist? Before success was measured in
KPIs and you learned the word networking and flinched every
(08:52):
time someone said it? Was it storytelling?
Adventure, puzzles, music, moving your body without turning
it into a workout, quiet creativity, full blown chaos, or
something in between. This is the part where you on
(09:16):
earth not evaluate. You're not judging whether you
were good at it. You're not editing your
childhood joy through an adult lens that's been fogged up by
expectations and spreadsheets. You're just getting curious
because that tiny gremlin glitter sticky version of you
(09:40):
had it figured out. At least when it came to joy, to
presence, to flow. They weren't optimizing their
hobbies for Instagram or trying to make a brand out of finger
painting. They were just being weird,
(10:03):
wonderful, and wildly alive. So give them the mic for a
minute. Let them remind you what it felt
like to do something just for the love of it.
That's the beginning. That's step one.
(10:24):
And yeah, it might feel silly ornostalgic or like you're trying
to summon a ghost, but sometimesthat ghost holds the blueprint.
And once you've dusted off thosememories, cracked open the
nostalgia vault and peeked in like you're diffusing A glitter
(10:48):
bomb, take it one step further. How did it feel to be in that
zone? Like, really feel it.
Was there, this weird calm that washed over you when you were
(11:08):
fully immersed, so focused that the rest of the world kind of
blurred out, like background noise on mute?
Did it make you feel free? Energized.
Did it light up your brain like a pinball machine in the best
(11:31):
possible way? Or maybe it made you feel safe,
Like I can exist exactly as I amin this moment, and no one is
asking me to be smaller, quieter, or more productive.
Maybe it was the one time your overthinking brain shut the hell
(11:54):
up and let you just exist. Not as a performer or a problem
solver or a people pleaser, but as a full human being doing
something you genuinely loved. Those feelings?
Yeah, they're still around. They didn't just disappear just
(12:16):
because you started paying billsor now own multiple tote bags
for errands. They're still valid, still
available, still tucked somewhere underneath your daily
chaos, your mental tabs, and probably a crumbled receipt for
something you forgot you bought.The thing is, joy doesn't just
(12:41):
evaporate, it gets buried under expectations.
And this, this is your chance todig.
No pressure, no Gold Star, no need to make it count.
Just a moment, a journal, and some curious self inventory
(13:08):
about what made your soul do a happy dance before life told it
to sit down and act normal. Because, spoiler alert, your
soul never wanted normal. It wanted wonder.
And that feeling? You're allowed to chase it
(13:29):
again. Hell, you're allowed to demand
it. OK, now that you've unearthed
your childhood greatest hits, complete with grass stains,
glitter glue, and fashion choices that can only be
described as chaotic good, it's time to put on your detective
(13:49):
hat. But not the trench coat and
magnifying glass kind. No, we're talking emotionally
intelligent sleuthing. Think Sherlock Holmes with
feelings. Because beneath every cardboard
Fort, treehouse escapade or impromptu living room concert
(14:13):
was a need being met. A real, human soul level need.
So take a step back and look at the patterns.
Squint at them like you're trying to read your old diary
without cringing. What did those activities
(14:38):
actually give you? Was it a sense of freedom, doing
something entirely on your own terms without rules timers, or
that sinking sense that you weresupposed to be somewhere else?
Was it pure creative expression where your brain could go full
(15:01):
gremlin and just make stuff without worrying whether it was
good? Maybe it was the joy of problem
solving, figuring out how to keep your blanket port from
collapsing, or inventing entire games with rules only you
understood. And let's be honest, that hit
(15:23):
different than trying to troubleshoot a broken Wi-Fi
connection while your microwave screams at you.
Or maybe what you were chasing was connection, not just with
people, but with ideas, with nature, with something bigger
(15:44):
than yourself or independence. A way to say this is mine, I
made this, I chose this. Or maybe it was just a solid
wholesome dopamine rush that didn't come from caffeine,
(16:04):
TikTok, or finally getting to inbox 0.
The point is, this wasn't randomchaos, it was you crafting A
blueprint for joy before you even knew what the hell that
meant. So as you dig through the
highlights reel of your tiny, weird, brilliant self, start
(16:29):
mapping those themes. Because those core needs, they
didn't disappear, you just got better at ignoring them.
But not today. Today we notice.
We name. We give those themes a seat at
(16:52):
the table because they've been trying to get your attention
this whole time. Because, spoiler alert, those
weren't just random hobbies. They weren't just what you did
to kill time before dinner or keep busy on weekends.
(17:16):
They were cloops. Glorious, sticky fingered, neon
bright clues about what made youfeel something real.
Joy, Curiosity, Autonomy, presence, wonder, all those big
(17:38):
soul level values hidden inside messy play and imagination
fueled chaos And the values behind them?
They still matter. Or at least they could if we'd
stop locking them away in the dusty childhood vault like
(17:59):
they're too immature to survive the adult world.
Newsflash, they are not immature.
They're essential. They're what makes us feel alive
under all the layers of burnout,budgeting, and pretending to
care about group texts. So now's your chance to connect
(18:21):
the dots. Zoom out a little.
Look at your childhood passions like a tangled constellation of
glitter glue, sidewalk chalk, and late night Lego builds.
What patterns do you see? What vibes show up over and over
again? Maybe it's curiosity,
(18:43):
creativity, solitude, movement, collaboration.
Maybe it's a craving for freedomor structure, or a place to put
all your weird, beautiful thoughts.
More importantly, what's still calling to you?
(19:07):
What's whispering underneath thenoise of responsibilities,
unread emails, and yet another conversation about what's for
dinner? What have you been craving but
convincing yourself you don't have time for or shouldn't care
about anymore? Listen, your inner child may be
(19:29):
wearing light up sneakers and covered in popsicle juice, but
don't let the aesthetic fool you.
They've got serious, grown up wisdom.
They were tuned in before life taught you how to tune out,
before you learned how to prioritize what was useful over
(19:50):
what was meaningful. And they've been patiently
waiting for you to stop scrolling long enough to
remember. So let's listen.
Let's reconnect. Let's stop ghosting the parts of
ourselves that actually knew howto live.
(20:13):
All right, so you've connected the dots.
Spotted the themes and possibly realized you were a tiny genius
who understood joy better than your current burnout riddled,
calendar worshipping self. Cute for past you, mildly
humbling for present you. But here's the $1,000,000
(20:36):
question. Don't worry, it's rhetorical.
No actual dollars involved. How do you bring that magic back
without turning it into a productivity project, a personal
brand, or the latest addition toyour overachiever Pinterest
board? Because here's the deal.
(21:00):
Just because you're not 8 anymore doesn't mean you've lost
your right to do things purely for the hell of it.
You can still get weird with a glue stick.
You can still build stuff with 0practical value.
You can still spend a suspiciousamount of time outside
pretending you're the main character in a whimsical indie
(21:22):
film. The world might not hand out
stickers for it, but your nervous system will thank you.
The key is translation, figuringout how to sneak those old
passions into your adult life without setting off your
internal, this feels frivolous alarm.
(21:45):
And no, you don't have to quit your job and move into an artist
commune. Unless that's your thing, in
which case carry on. I'm talking bite sized joy.
Little moments you can actually fit in between doing laundry and
spiraling about the state of theworld.
(22:06):
Start small, like 10 minutes small.
Doodle in the margins of your planner, take a walk and let
your brain off the leash. No podcasts, no emails, just
vibes. Write a journal entry like it's
a scene from the sitcom version of your childhood.
(22:29):
Buy some modeling clay and make something wildly useless and
deeply satisfying. Host a theme night with your
friends where everyone shows up as their 8 year old selves and
eats snacks shaped like dinosaurs.
Hell, join a class, take an improv workshop, sign up for a
(22:49):
painting night, Go to that weirdly specific book club that
only reads fantasy novels about sentient plants.
There are entire communities of adult humans out there trying to
reconnect with joy, and they arejust as weird and wonderful as
you. And listen closely.
(23:13):
You don't have to be good at it.You don't need to monetize it.
You don't need to make a real about it.
You're allowed to do something badly just because it makes your
insides feel a little bit more alive.
That's not regression. That's healing.
(23:37):
The world will keep spinning, whether you make a lopsided
scarf, start a playlist of songsyou loved in 2002, or build a
Lego village in your living room.
But you you might start to feel more like yourself again.
And here's your official permission slip, written in
(24:01):
metaphorical crayon and signed by your inner child.
You do not have to be good at it.
Read that again. I'm going to read that again.
You're going to listen to it again.
Let it marinate. You don't have to be good at it.
(24:23):
Because somewhere along the line, joy got hijacked by
perfectionism and suddenly everyhobby had to have an audience, A
monetization plan, and a matching aesthetic.
Seriously, this is not a talent show.
(24:45):
No one's holding up scorecards. There's no Gold Star for best
adult doing a whimsical thing. No one's going to come in and
say, oh sorry, your knitting's uneven.
You're banned from happiness. It's not about impressing anyone
or building a personal brand. It's about you doing something
(25:09):
that lights up your insides a little, even if it looks
ridiculous from the outside. This isn't about productivity.
It's not about outcomes. It's not even about getting
better at it. It's about remembering that
(25:30):
things like fun, curiosity, creativity and play aren't
extra. They're essential.
They are human needs. Right up there with water,
memes, sunlight, and avoiding people who say let's circle back
(25:52):
like it's a threat. And joy.
Real joy. It's messy.
It's a little weird. It often involves glitter, bad
karaoke, or making a fool of yourself in the best possible
way. But it also brings you back to
(26:15):
yourself. It softens the edges.
It makes life feel a little lesslike A to do list and a little
more like something worth wakingup for.
So go do something utterly pointless.
Finger paint with no plan. Dance in your kitchen to music
(26:39):
you'd be embarrassed to admit you still love.
Write a haiku about your dog. Start a project you have 0
intention of finishing. Let it be imperfect.
Let it be yours. Because if it makes you feel
even a tiny bit more alive, that's not wasting time.
(27:04):
That's reclaiming it. That's the assignment.
OK, you've done the emotional excavation, uncovered the golden
Nuggets of childhood joy, maybe even caught yourself Googling
adult piano lessons near me while spiraling through a
(27:24):
playlist of 2000s nostalgia. Love that for you, truly.
You're out here reconnecting with your original programming,
the version of you that knew howto have fun without overthinking
it or turning it into a LinkedInpost.
(27:44):
Now comes the real magic, the follow through, not the
performative New Year's Resolution version where you
spend $48 on a bullet journal you'll abandoned by February.
We're not doing that. This is about setting a
(28:04):
realistic shame. Free obligation, light
intention, something small enough to actually do, but
meaningful enough to matter. You don't need a five year plan.
You don't need a mood board or an accountability buddy or a new
(28:27):
identity centered around becoming a person who takes
improv classes. Now you just need to say, hey,
I'm going to do this one small thing because it brings me joy.
That's it. That's the bar, and it's
deliciously low. Pick one passion.
(28:52):
Just one something little you would be thrilled to see you
trying again. Finger painting, roller skating,
singing in the car like your headlining Coachella, reading
fantasy novels in bed with snacks.
(29:14):
It doesn't have to make sense toanyone else.
It just has to make you feel like you're slipping joy into
your schedule, like emotional contraband smuggled between doom
scrolling, dishwashing, and pretending to understand your
insurance. And here's your compass, your
(29:35):
vibe check, your joy GPS. How do you want to feel while
doing it? Playful, creative, free like
your soul just got handed a juice box and told Recess was
back on that feeling. That's your North Star.
(30:02):
Follow it, chase it like it owesyou money.
You don't have to fix your wholelife, you just have to sneak a
little joy back into it. One doodle.
What? Walk one weird little hobby at a
time. That's the beginning.
(30:26):
That's enough. And honestly, that's where the
magic happens. So let's make it official.
Not just a passing thought or a yeah I should do that sometime
that vanishes into the mental clutter alongside forgotten
(30:47):
passwords and half written grocery lists.
Nope. Grab a pen, write it down, say
it out loud to your house plants, your cat, your
reflection in the microwave, whoever is available.
Because this is it. This is the moment where your
(31:08):
inner child stops being just a wistful memory and officially
gets a seat at the grown up table.
This isn't about pretending yourlife is suddenly whimsical and
unburdened. It's about making space.
Just enough space for joy to squeeze in next to your
(31:28):
deadlines and that suspicious pile of laundry you keep
ignoring. It's about saying, hey, adulting
is exhausting, but I can still do one small thing that makes my
soul exhale. So pick your thing, your one
(31:51):
little act of rebellion against the idea that joy has to be
earned or scheduled months in advance.
Maybe it's painting badly or dancing terribly or taking a
class you have no business beingin, but you show up anyway
(32:11):
because it makes you laugh. Maybe it's just giving yourself
10 blessed minutes a day to not be useful and just be you.
Let's set the intention and see what happens.
(32:33):
Worst case, you feel slightly ridiculous and your houseplant
judges you, which, honestly, it's kind of charming.
Best case, you reconnect with something real, something you
forgot was still in you, something that makes you feel
like yourself again, but more rooted, more awake, more you.
(33:02):
And honestly, that's the kind ofridiculous we could all use more
of. And there we have it, friends.
You've time travelled through your childhood memories, decoded
the secret language of your old obsessions, and maybe even
(33:23):
dusted off a long forgotten dream involving sidewalk chalk
or interpretive dance. You've gone full emotional
archaeologist and what you dug up?
That stuff matters. Because joy isn't something
we're supposed to grow out of, it's something we're meant to
(33:43):
grow with. And if your younger self could
see you now, doing the work, setting intentions, sneaking in
tiny pockets of wonder between dentist appointments and
existential spirals, they'd probably high 5, you know, or
(34:05):
throw glitter at you. Or both.
So here's your challenge, your invitation, your neon flashing
nudge from the universe. Bring one of those passions back
to life. Not to be productive, not to
make it make sense. Just because it feels good.
(34:30):
Because joy, play and curiosity aren't a luxury.
They're a lifeline. And you're allowed to grab hold
of them. Even on a Tuesday.
If this episode gave you something to think about or
laugh about or cry about in the nostalgic section of Target, go
(34:55):
ahead and share it with someone who needs a little nudge to
reconnect with their inner ChaosGoblin, too.
Don't forget to rate, review, and subscribe to Shrink Wrapped
wherever you get your podcasts, Spotify, Apple, Amazon,
iHeartRadio, or the O'Neill Counseling app.
Speaking of which, hop into the app to connect with other
(35:18):
listeners, join the conversation, and maybe even
share your childhood passion that you're bringing back.
Yes, macaroni art absolutely counts.
Thanks for pushing play on Shrink Wrapped.
Pop in next week when we're DSM diving into the mental adventure
that is borderline personality disorder.
(35:42):
And remember, you're doing better than you think.
Now go do something completely pointless and wildly joyful.
You've earned it.
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