I took a week off games.
Which included a break from writing and reading about games. It was my first time observing the season of Lent, or its tail end, which comes right before Good Friday and Easter.
I'm not one to observe religious days and cultural festivals. Even with birthdays, I'm not keen on parties and fuss; a quiet meal will do. ("Let's do something special" isn't my forte as a mom or spouse. I won't make cute omurice bears for your lunchbox, sorry.)
Why Lent and why a fast? Sometimes it is nice to do a special thing in concert with other people around the world. I've never done a food fast, whether for health or spiritual reasons. I've always thought a gaming fast to be more appropriate for me. And it happened to be Lent.
The result was exactly what I'd hoped for: A feeling of spaciousness.
Less urgency. More room for important things and people in my life. The impact of this little fast was more obvious because my husband was trying a similar experiment (with social media), and we enjoyed more quality time together.
I liked those feelings and want to keep them going.
Enough complaining
When I picked up the Switch again, there was a slight sense of relief (like I'd gotten my fix at last) but also this sinking feeling, a let-down. What am I playing for, really? Am I driven by mere compulsion or completionism? Those questions came to mind as I opened yet another vacant barrel while looting a house in Baldur's Gate. All those empty boxes and drawers leave me feeling sort of empty too, you know?
Nothing wrong with games per se. Gaming was a decent coping mechanism as I adjusted to being a first-time parent. But I'd like time to grow in other areas of my life now.
For years I've complained about lack of progress. In career, in exercise habits, etc. The only way I can think of making more time and headspace is to cut down on games, which includes reading about them.
And another reason for my week-long fast was to detox from the compulsion to play and think about games. I like possessing this hobby but I don't like this hobby possessing me.
It's hard to let go of a long-time hobby (aka drug), even temporarily or partially. So I remind myself that I've never regretted obeying the gut feeling that says "you should take a break". It always turns out freeing or refreshing. I also tell myself: accomplishing anything worthwhile requires sacrifice. To say yes, you've also got to say no.
The game plan
Here's what I'm trying for the rest of 2022. Things I'm saying yes and no to:
No: Overall, spend less time and thought on gaming.
Yes: Overall, spend more time and thought in other areas, e.g. writing and editing skills.
No: Buying new games, except one concession (Animal Crossing: New Horizons' DLC, hehe). I won't die from abstinence, nor will games expire if they're shelved for awhile. I don't need to keep up with the latest. It's not like I'm aiming to be a games journalist, and even if I am, I shouldn't be a slave to relentless pursuit of "the next thing".
Yes: Enjoy old games and reviewing free codes for LG. That's enough to occupy me for two lifetimes, seriously. And I'll have more money for books.
No: Google News Feed.
Yes: Read good books. Occasionally do nothing (which tougher than it sounds).
No: Staying up too late. No games after my husband retires to bed around midnight.
Yes: Wake earlier. Spend the first 1 to 2 hours of the morning on important stuff. For example, on writing/editing days, I'd like to do one of these:
- beta-read a sci-fi novel
- revise and submit an old nonfiction essay
- try fiction writing exercises
- review games for LG
- optionally, write 2 posts per month for this blog
- correspond with my writer buddies, who always inspire me
Caveat: life
Of course, after making all these plans, I might be hit with a 2019 again.
In 2019, I started the year with inspired commitment to sit at my desk and try writing short stories. Then a dear little person rang the doorbell and moved in, bringing morning sickness as her unforgettable souvenir. Which wrecked all good intentions to write.
That may happen again, if it's my good fortune. Or something truly unfortunate might happen. I'm not making excuses, just thinking of two horrific accidents I read about last night. Both accidents happened (long ago) to successful writers, incidentally. One smashed into by a minivan, the other by a baseball bat. Both survived, or they wouldn't have written about the accidents.
I hope I won't be smashed into, whether fatally or not. But if I am, know that I had every good intention.