'Millennial hobby energy' is the reason we'll never be happy.

Have you ever had a friend who picked up knitting last month and is suddenly running an Etsy store selling handcrafted beanies with custom tags and a perfectly curated Instagram aesthetic?

Welcome to big millennial hobby energy— where we can't just do something, we have to become it.

I first noticed this phenomenon when I attempted to take up colouring as a relaxing pastime. Simple, right? Wrong. Colouring was recommended to me by my therapist as a calming exercise to reconnect with my inner child.

All I had to do was just colour inside the lines, no pressure, pure therapeutic bliss. That lasted exactly 47 minutes until I made the fatal mistake of searching #adultcolouring on TikTok.

There she was. A woman with the same colouring book as me, except her pages looked like they belonged in the Louvre, while mine resembled something a five-year-old might proudly stick to a refrigerator. She wasn't just colouring— she was shading. With multiple pencils.

Watch: Millennial Hobby Energy. Post continues below.

On top of that (and I still can't get over it till this day) she didn't even play by the rules. That's right— she was colouring OUTSIDE the lines. The audacity. She was creating depth and dimension I didn't even know was possible in a $12.99 mindfulness colouring book.

I immediately went from "this is fun" to "I'm terrible at this and must improve immediately." Three YouTube tutorials later, I was frustrated, tired, and had completely lost the relaxation I was seeking in the first place.

I haven't coloured since.

This, my friends, is peak millennial hobby energy.

According to writer Anne Helen Petersen, who recently explored this phenomenon in her newsletter Culture Study, millennial hobby energy is "going from growing four dahlias to growing 500. It's running couch to 5K and then suddenly you're making plans for two marathons a year. It's falling down a quilting rabbit hole on TikTok and waking up with $800 worth of fabric."

Sound familiar? It should, because we're all guilty of it.

The question is: why can't we just have normal, casual hobbies? Why must everything become an all-consuming passion project with its own Pinterest board and domain name?

Part of the problem is that many of us grew up with an understanding that activities weren't just for fun— they were achievements to be listed on college applications. We learnt early that leisure should be productive, impressive, or at the very least, Instagram-worthy.

Unlike our parents or grandparents who could happily putter around with a weekend hobby for decades with zero pressure to excel, we feel compelled to master everything we touch. My dad is an incredible chef and can whip up meals just by getting a feel for what they should taste like. He's also a musician with perfect pitch and can play any song on the piano or guitar. Meanwhile, I can't try a new recipe without wondering if I should start a food blog and the minute I play the wrong note on the piano… I tap out.

Then there's the monetisation factor. Our brains have been so thoroughly broken by economic instability that we can't help but see every activity as a potential side hustle. Baked some decent cookies? Better start selling them! Planted a small garden? Time to launch an urban farming YouTube channel!

"Why waste time on something that doesn't generate income?" whispers our anxiety-ridden inner voice, still traumatised by the four economic recessions we've experienced and crushing HECS debt.

And let's not forget the comparison trap. Before social media, your hobby only had to please you. Now, there's an entire online community of experts ready to make you feel inadequate in approximately 0.5 seconds. That spontaneous pottery class becomes a lot less fun when you realise your wobbly mug looks nothing like the perfectly symmetrical creations filling your TikTok feed.

Listen: The author of this article discusses 'Big Millennial Hobby Energy' on the Mamamia Out Loud podcast.

Hobbies are supposed to be our escape from our overwhelming day-to-day, not another source of stress. They're meant to give us that elusive "active rest"— the kind where your brain gets a break from productivity anxiety while your hands stay busy.

My most successful hobby to date has been walking, and that's only because I literally have to in order to get to places. No tracking app, no step goal. I only realised that walking was my hobby when it came to the weekend and I realised that I missed my strolls in the city. It sounds dumb, but I literally had an "Oh, I can just do this for fun because it makes me feel good" moment.

So here's my radical proposal: what if we tried doing things purely for enjoyment? What if we embraced being mediocre at stuff we like? What if we coloured without shading, grew just four dahlias instead of 500, and baked cookies that would never be photographed or sold?

In a world where everything feels like it needs to be optimised, monetised, or branded, the most rebellious act is to have a hobby that's just... fine. Not excellent. Not profitable. Just pleasantly, unremarkably, fine.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do some spectacularly average colouring. And I promise not to post about it (maybe).

What's your unremarkable hobby? Tell us in the comments.

If you want more from Emily Vernem, you can follow her on Instagram @emilyvernem.

Feature image: Canva.