the importance of play (especially when you think you’ve outgrown it)

let’s be honest:
being an adult is mostly spreadsheets, group texts you don’t want to be in, and putting the almond milk back before it expires.

somewhere between survival and being “high-functioning,” we stopped playing.

we started thinking:

• i don’t have time for that.

• i’m too tired.

• i’m too old.

• i should be doing something useful.

• i wouldn’t even know how to start.

so we work, strive, manage, cope—and wonder why everything feels flat, even when nothing’s technically wrong.

but here’s the thing nobody tells you:
you don’t need less stress. you need more joy.

play isn’t extra. it’s essential.

play is the reset button for your nervous system.
it’s the most underrated form of emotional regulation.
it’s where your creativity hides when everything feels like a grind.
and yeah, it might also be the fastest way back to the parts of you that still feel free.

your inner child doesn’t want a journal prompt.

she wants to climb on furniture and sing to the dog.
she wants to laugh so hard she snorts.
she wants to do something pointless—and love every second of it.

you don’t reconnect with yourself by overthinking your feelings.
you reconnect by moving, laughing, and doing things for no reason at all.

what counts as play?

anything that makes you feel a little more alive and a little less performative.

• eating cereal for dinner while watching a movie you’ve already seen 37 times—and cheering anyway

• building a pillow fort with your kid (or alone, as an adult with bills and zero shame)

• rewriting the lyrics to a love song to be about your dog and singing it at full volume

• trying to roller skate again like it’s 1998 and you have knee cartilage

• narrating your life in dramatic documentary voice while making toast

• walking through a little creek just to find magic, even if it's muddy and full of bugs—you win anyway

if it makes your shoulders drop, your brain soften, or your laughter come out sideways—that’s play.

why play matters (especially now)

it unfreezes your nervous system.
you can’t fight, flee, or fawn when you’re mid-laughter. play tells your body: hey—we’re okay.

it stops perfectionism mid-sentence.
you can’t “optimize” your way through play. there’s no gold star. just joy.

it brings you back to you.
not the polished you. not the coping you.
the real one underneath all that effort.

it makes healing less of a grind.
you don’t just get better by processing pain.
you get better by remembering how to feel good again—without earning it.

why we avoid it

because joy feels dangerous when you’ve lived in stress for a long time.
because play is unguarded, and unguarded can feel unsafe.
because we’re more comfortable surviving than softening.

but play is what keeps you human.
and you deserve to feel like a human again.

the permission slip

you don’t need to be in a better place.
you don’t need to have your shit together.
you don’t need to “heal” first.

you just need one moment that isn’t about fixing yourself.

just play.
the rest of you will catch up.