Feeling ashamed of the things that make you happy

07 Feb, 2025

I remember that when I was a kid, I used to feel embarrassed whenever my parents walked into my room while I was playing video games or watching TV.¹ It was an irrational kind of shame. Over time, I realized it was because I was afraid of being judged—I didn’t want them to ridicule the things that made me happy.

This fear didn’t come out of nowhere, of course. My parents were always very critical of others, and even though they didn’t always judge me directly, hearing them criticize people so much gave me a set of insecurities that ranged from my appearance to my hobbies. Today, I want to talk about the latter.

I’m someone who deeply enjoys most things considered geeky. My biggest passions are film and video games,² but I’m also into TCGs, some anime, and a few manga series. I’m a passionate fan of the Saga comic, and while my love for Marvel has faded a lot, back in my teenage years, I made an almost inhuman effort to collect as many series as I could.

These are some of the things that make me happy—they’ve made me happy since I was a kid. However, fully accepting them as part of my happiness, and more importantly, accepting myself as someone who enjoys these things, has been a painful process filled with a lot of anxiety.

Like I said at the beginning, it all traces back to my childhood, when I learned to feel ashamed of the things I liked or was passionate about.

My parents had this hurtful habit of being brutally honest, without considering the impact of their words. Sometimes, when they saw my brother and me doing something that wasn’t homework, they’d say things like, "Stop messing around and do something useful," or "Quit wasting your time with that shit."

Maybe their intention was never to insult what we were doing, and the harsh words were just their way of expressing frustration, but for a child, context often gets lost. As a result, I had to get used to the idea that anything I liked—if it wasn’t school-related—was just bullshit or a waste of time.

Needless to say (or maybe not), growing up with that mindset had disastrous consequences for my mental health later on.

But it was weird—it’s not like my parents were entirely against my fun or hobbies. I remember when Yu-Gi-Oh! first came out, and every kid my age was desperate to get their hands on the cards, my mom took me to multiple stores across the city until we finally found them. Strange, right? But I almost forgot to mention that before she earned her Mom of the Year nomination, I had to sit through a couple of painful lectures. I was questioned endlessly and had to explain and justify why I wanted them to buy me the cards. I was only seven.

That was just one example. This happened every time I asked for something. Don’t even get me started on asking for a new console, Beyblades, or comics. Everything was stupid, nothing I liked was ever important. Can you imagine your own parents not thinking your interests are cool? Not even because they love you. I never really considered myself a geek³, but damn, I now realize my parents were my first bullies.

Because of this, I grew up hiding my interests and only mentioned them once I had a solid friendship with someone and felt safe enough to talk about them. My teenage years were when I repressed my hobbies the most—if you’ve been through it, you know that’s when we’re most vulnerable to ridicule. And while it was necessary for survival, I do remember feeling fake. Every day felt like a performance.

Now, as an adult, I’ve taken responsibility for this. I worked on it in therapy, and now I don’t care what others think about the things that make me happy. The guilt is gone. I can confidently say I enjoy my hobbies more than ever. That may be why I'm enjoying growing up so much.

I try not to judge my parents. Understanding the appeal of something like a TCG or a GameBoy as an adult who grew up in a time when most of these things didn’t even exist must be tough. But that doesn’t mean I justify the way they raised me. In a way, understanding the damage and why it happened has been a crucial part of my progress in therapy.

I’m not writing this to vent about my childhood wounds but because I know there are others out there who were once ridiculed for the things they liked. I never got bullied at school, but I can barely imagine how painful that must be and the scars it leaves when growing up.

What’s even sadder to me are the people who stopped doing or caring about things that once brought them joy because they felt forced to grow up. Or because they convinced themselves that certain things are for kids and an adult can’t enjoy them anymore. Fuck that. If you’re not hurting anyone, what’s the problem? Don't let society take away the joy of fully being who you really are.

This is your sign to rediscover that hobby.

🧒 Never let your inner child die. Thanks for reading.

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