Play is not a phase you outgrow. It is a form of psychological oxygen. Somewhere between paying bills, caregiving, chasing goals, and surviving the news cycle, a lot of us lost our sense of play. We don’t mean to; we just forget.
As children, play is how we explore the world, process emotions, and build resilience.Many adults forget how to play. Others were never given the chance to learn. We tell ourselves we’ll return to fun when there’s more time, more money, fewer problems. We begin to believe that joy must be earned.
But here’s the truth: play is not frivolous. It’s essential. Especially for adults managing chronic stress, depression, anxiety, or burnout. Making space for hobbies and play is one of the most powerful and underrated ways to support your mental health. Joy is not a reward. It is a basic human need.
What Is Play, Really?
Play is not limited to games or performance. It is any activity that brings a sense of curiosity, lightness, or flow. It does not demand achievement or productivity. It asks only for presence.
It can look like painting with your fingers, organizing books by color, tinkering with a bike, growing vegetables, sketching imperfectly, or spinning in your kitchen until you’re dizzy. It can also look like stargazing, or collecting shells, or building a Lego set just because you used to love the sound the pieces made as they poured onto the floor.
What matters is that your mind softens. That your body rests. That you get even a brief break from the vigilance of survival mode. When we play, we’re engaging parts of our brain that are crucial for emotional regulation, creativity, and stress relief.
Research shows that leisure activities are linked to reduced cortisol levels, lower blood pressure, improved mood, and even better immune function. One study found that people who regularly participate in hobbies report higher life satisfaction and lower rates of depression, even when controlling for income and health status. In other words, this isn’t fluff. Play is a protective factor.
Why Joy Becomes Elusive for Many Adults
For many, the inability to play is not due to time but to trauma. If you grew up in a home where joy was inconsistent, unpredictable, or unsafe, such as homes overshadowed by addiction, rage, illness, or emotional neglect, you may have learned to avoid delight. You may associate fun with consequences or guilt.
Some adults remember being told to stop being silly. To sit still. To stop making a mess. Others internalized that pleasure was selfish or childish. Over time, these messages become barriers. The brain wires itself for caution rather than creativity. And when trauma is present, the nervous system may not interpret rest or fun as safe at all.
In adulthood, we carry these patterns into work, relationships, and even our own parenting. We lose sight of the simple activities that once made us feel most like ourselves.
The Neuroscience of Play and Healing
Play is not a soft intervention. It is neurobiological care. When we engage in pleasurable activities, our bodies release dopamine and serotonin. These are chemical messengers that regulate mood, attention, and emotional balance. Play also activates the parasympathetic nervous system, which helps regulate stress, improve digestion, and lower heart rate. These are essential functions that often break down under chronic stress or emotional overload.
A growing body of research links regular leisure activity to improved mental health outcomes. One study published in Psychosomatic Medicine found that individuals who engaged in hobbies experienced fewer depressive symptoms and better overall health, even when accounting for socioeconomic factors.
Practical Ways to Invite Play Back Into Your Life
If the idea of “adding a hobby” to your already maxed-out schedule feels like too much, start small. This is not about performance. It’s about access. You can reintroduce play into your life by returning to what you used to love. Start with just 5 minutes a day.
Return to sensory play. Use your hands. Knead dough. Plant seeds. Shape clay. Play rekindles when the body gets involved.
Reclaim old hobbies. Dust off a forgotten instrument. Revisit a childhood sport. Try the things you were once too poor, too busy, or too scared to pursue.
Create without outcome. Doodle, paint, or write with no intention of sharing. Let the process matter more than the product.
Find absurdity. Watch a goofy video. Speak in a silly accent. Let yourself laugh at something ridiculous. The brain loves novelty.
Play with others. Pets, children, and close friends are excellent co-conspirators in joy. Their presence gives you permission to be less guarded.
Start tiny. Five minutes counts. One dance. One puzzle piece. One comic strip. Remember: this is not one more task on your to-do list. It is the antidote to your to-do list.
When Fun Feels Foreign
If fun feels uncomfortable or inaccessible, that’s not a character flaw. That can be trauma speaking. Not sure how to begin? Start by remembering what you used to love before life told you to be efficient.
Did you love reading under a blanket fort with a flashlight?
Did you draw endless spirals in the margins of your notebooks?
Did you name the neighborhood squirrels or pretend you had magical powers?
Did you roller-skate to your favorite song or bury tiny treasures in the backyard?
These are not childish indulgences. They are part of your sensory memory. They are invitations back into selfhood. Many people mistake numbness or detachment for laziness. In reality, those are protective responses. If joy has felt unsafe for years, your nervous system may hesitate to let it in again. Be patient.
Reclaiming Fun Is a Mental Health Practice
Healing is not just about surviving. It is about re-learning how to live. And for that, you need more than coping skills. You need connection, pleasure, humor, and the occasional moment of awe.
So go ahead. Play the piano badly. Bake something messy. Write a haiku no one will read. Let yourself exist in a moment without purpose or proof. You are not just a brain to manage or a body to discipline. You are a person who still needs wonder.
This is your permission to reclaim it.