You know that awkward moment when someone suggests a silly game at a gathering and every adult in the room suddenly becomes very interested in the snack table? Yeah. That.
Somewhere between childhood and figuring out taxes, a lot of us quietly dropped something essential: the ability to play without feeling weird about it.
We didn’t put it in a box and label it “Play – to be used never again.” It just… faded. Replaced by “being productive,” “acting professional,” and “not embarrassing ourselves.”
But here’s the thing: play didn’t stop being natural. We just got talked out of it.
Let’s unpack how that happened—and how to slowly, gently, awkwardly steal it back.
The Day Play Started Feeling “Cringe”
Most of us can’t point to the exact moment it happened.
One day you’re a kid turning the living room into a jungle with sofa cushions and three mismatched blankets. The next, you’re an adult apologizing for laughing too loud on a work call.
We didn’t stop playing because we stopped needing it.
We stopped because we started hearing things like:
- “Act your age.”
- “Be serious.”
- “Grow up.”
- “That’s not appropriate.”
Translation: fun now has conditions.
So we adapted. We swapped make-believe worlds for meetings, dance breaks for deadlines, and drawing for “I’m not really creative.”
And play slipped quietly out the side door.
How We Get Trained Out of Play
It’s not that adults forget how to play. Our brains still know.
We just build layer after layer of rules on top of that instinct.
H3: School: Where Play Gets a Schedule
As kids, you play whenever. Dirt? Toy. Stick? Sword. Cardboard box? Spaceship.
Then school happens.
- Play becomes something you do at recess, in a designated area, for 20 minutes, then back to “real” work.
- Sitting still is praised.
- Daydreaming gets labeled “not paying attention.”
We learn early: play is extra, not essential.
H3: Work: The Era of “Professionalism”
Fast forward to adult life.
Suddenly:
- Your value is tied to output.
- Your time is money.
- Your calendar is a jigsaw puzzle of obligations.
Cracking a joke in a meeting? Fine, but not too much. Drawing during a Zoom call? Immature. Saying, “I just feel like doing something fun”? Feels illegal.
Play doesn’t fit neatly into a corporate calendar invite, so we stop trusting it.
H3: Hustle Culture: If It’s Not Monetized, Is It Worth It?
Then there’s the big one: If you’re good at something, you should monetize it.
- Like knitting? Open an Etsy shop.
- Like photography? Start a side hustle.
- Like baking? Sell it on Instagram.
Suddenly the message is: if it’s not “productive,” it’s a waste of time.
Play becomes yet another thing you’re supposed to optimize.
And that’s usually the moment it stops feeling like play.
The Myths That Kill Adult Play
We don’t just drop play. We build a whole belief system around why we don’t need it anymore.
Here are a few greatest hits:
- “Play is childish.”
Nope. Children are just allowed to do it without overthinking. - “I don’t have time to play.”
But somehow we have time to scroll for 45 minutes feeling anxious and numb? - “If I’m not good at it, what’s the point?”
This is how we end up only doing things we’re already decent at—and never trying anything new. - “Relaxing = Netflix + phone in bed.”
Which is more like numbing than truly playing.
These myths quietly train us to believe that our only acceptable states are “busy” or “recovering from being busy.”
Play doesn’t fit either category.
What Play Actually Is (Spoiler: It’s Not Just Games)
We tend to think of “play” as board games, sports, or pretending to be a dragon. Fun, yes. But that’s not the full picture.
Play is any activity you do for its own sake—because it feels good, interesting, or energizing.
It’s:
- Drawing badly and loving it
- Dancing in your kitchen while dinner simmers
- Making up dumb inside jokes with friends
- Building Lego sets as an adult with full emotional commitment
- Trying a new recipe just because it looks fun (not because you need content for it)
Play is less about what you do and more about how freely you’re allowed to do it:
- No scoreboard.
- No productivity metric.
- No “was this worth my time?” spreadsheet afterward.
Play = presence + curiosity + low stakes.
Signs You Might Be Play-Deprived
You don’t have to be “serious” 24/7 to be play-deprived. It can sneak up in more subtle ways.
You might be play-starved if:
- You feel guilty any time you’re not “getting things done.”
- You literally don’t know what you enjoy outside of work.
- Free time makes you… anxious.
- You say things like, “I’m just not fun like I used to be.”
- You need alcohol to let yourself loosen up.
- You feel weird doing something silly without kids around as a cover.
The core signal?
You don’t trust joy unless it’s justified.
Why Our Brains Still Crave Play (Even if We Pretend We Don’t)
Here’s the wild part: your brain hasn’t outgrown play.
Play helps with:
- Stress relief – Movement, laughter, and novelty shake stress out of your system.
- Creativity – Play opens up new pathways and ideas because you’re not trying to “get it right.”
- Connection – Shared play (games, jokes, shared silliness) is how we bond and feel safe.
- Resilience – Being able to be light, curious, and flexible helps you cope with real-life chaos.
Kids use play to process the world. Adults are still processing a lot—just with more emails.
We didn’t stop needing play. We just stopped admitting it.
How to Find Your Way Back to Play (Awkwardly Is Fine)
Let’s be honest: the idea of “relearning play” can feel… cringe. So start small. Quiet. Secret, if you need to.
H3: 1. Start with Micro-Play
Tiny, no-pressure moments:
- Doodle in the margin of your notebook during a call
- Make up a dumb song while you tidy your room
- Talk back to your pet in a ridiculous voice
- Try walking backwards for five steps just because
Micro-play says: I’m allowed to be a tiny bit ridiculous and nothing bad happens.
H3: 2. Do Things You’re Intentionally Bad At
Perfectionism is play’s arch-nemesis. So choose things you don’t need to be good at:
- Scribble, don’t “draw”
- Dance, don’t “work out”
- Sing loudly, not well
- Try a craft with zero intent to post it anywhere
The goal is enjoyment, not competence.
H3: 3. Create Play-Only Zones
Protect certain things from being turned into “content” or “progress.”
- A sketchbook that never hits Instagram
- A game you play with friends that stays your thing
- A hobby that has a firm “no monetizing this” rule
Some things are allowed to exist purely because they make you feel alive.
H3: 4. Invite Safe People into Your Play
Play is easier with people who don’t make you feel dumb for being silly.
- Start a game night that isn’t taken too seriously
- Send voice notes instead of typed messages, complete with sound effects
- Share nostalgic things together: old cartoons, childhood snacks, stupid memes
Play thrives where you feel safe enough to be unpolished.
Reframing Play: It’s Not Extra. It’s Maintenance.
We were taught play is what you do after the real work is done.
But adult reality is: the work is never fully done.
If you wait for everything to be finished before you allow play, you’ll wait forever.
So here’s a new frame:
- Play is not a reward. It’s fuel.
- Play is not childish. It’s human.
- Play is not a distraction from life. It’s part of what makes life feel like yours.
A Soft Closing: The Part of You That Never Forgot
You haven’t actually forgotten how to play.
There’s still a version of you inside—the one who used to turn hallways into racetracks and spoons into microphones—who knows exactly what to do.
They’re just waiting for permission.
Maybe that permission sounds like:
- “It’s okay if this looks silly.”
- “Not everything has to mean something.”
- “Joy is a valid use of my time.”
You don’t have to quit your job, move to a cabin, or buy a trampoline (unless… tempting).
You just have to let yourself, once in a while, do something for no reason except:
“This feels fun, and I’m allowed to feel that.”
