Homemade Acne: My Favorite Pandemic Hobby: Learning to Listen

From the Editors:
Our Pandemic Hobbies for Mental Health

This March marked one year since the beginning of COVID-19, and with it, the start of enormous changes that are still unfolding. We found ourselves challenged in many ways as we tried to balance the state of the world with our own mental health.

In this From the Editors series, Verywell Mind editors take a look at the past year of quarantine and reflect on the pandemic hobbies, both big and small, that helped us cope with the stress of the pandemic and bring back a sense of joy and peace.

Laura Harold,
Associate Editor, Verywell Mind

2020 was the year that had me wondering how much control I actually have over my life—it didn't feel like a ton.

I tried to reclaim it in little ways. Being at home and no longer tempted to eat day-old donuts sitting out at the office, I shopped for fresh groceries as often as I wanted. Control what I put in my body. Reinvigorate myself with healthy foods. So at first, I think the only pandemic hobby I had was trying out a new organic supermarket in my neighborhood, trekking on foot a whole 30 blocks both ways.

Grocery shopping for sport got a little old. I still did it because I had to, but my excitement peaked when I tried dragon fruit for the first time. After that, everything else lost its steam. Alright, what's next? Well, while I was turning my life into a project, I couldn't help but notice the bedroom I had so frightfully neglected during the days of my subway commutes. Now, there's a trending hobby: cleaning. Prompted by my other hobby (watching other people clean their rooms on Netflix), I learned the real meaning of clean: cutting off emotional attachments to unused objects so I can see my floor. I rediscovered some old toys—those things I "had to have" at the time that quickly joined the dusty repertoire of things I also "had to have" a couple of months before. My favorite one of these: my radio.

I bought a radio after staying in a hotel pre-pandemic. The hotel room had this retro-looking Tivoli Audio Model One AM/FM radio. I barely turned it off my whole stay, streaming in the smoky radio voices and the music, old and comforting or new and inspiring. It reminded me of getting my driver's license—the first thrilling taste of freedom—and my only company was FM radio. And because it's all happening in real time, I knew I wasn't really the only one listening, even if I was the only one in the car.

I dusted mine off—a beautiful white and chestnut finish. I'm reminded of people who listened to their radios when that's all there was before TV, getting their news, their stories, and their music all through this one box. There were no visuals—only the listeners' own, prompted by the sounds. I think of how so much of what I listen to comes from Spotify by way of my laptop, my phone, my headphones… I am always in the driver's seat. With the radio, I don't have that same control. Sure, I can change the station, but I have no way of knowing if it'll be better or worse than the one I came from until I get there. I have to let go and let it in. Of course, some of it I don't like. Some of the conversations are boring and some of the songs are bad (unless I'm listening to WFUV, go Rams). But what comes out of it is never up to me, and this fact doesn't make it less enjoyable. There's actually freedom.

It'd be a whole philosophical debate on how much control we humans really have (more content than this newsletter can take). But instead of worrying about what I can't control, I'm trying to reframe: what's the harm in letting go?