How to Play as an Adult (And Why It Matters More Than You Think)

I bought a skipping rope last month.

Not for exercise. Just because I wanted one.

I also bought chalk. The fat, colourful kind. I drew a hopscotch grid on the pavement outside my house and I played it by myself and it was fucking fantastic.

I'm 40-something years old. I run my own business. Last year ended with a cancer diagnosis and this year has asked more of me emotionally than I knew I had to give. And I'm out here skipping rope in my driveway.

Because here's what I'm learning: play isn't something we outgrow. We just stop giving ourselves permission.

We Forgot We Were Allowed

Think about it. When did you stop playing?

I don't mean exercising or "doing something fun." I mean actually playing. The kind of thing where you're not tracking reps or posting about it or checking it off a list. Where you just do something because it feels good and that's the whole entire point.

For most of us it happened slowly. We got busy. We got serious. We started filling our days with things that needed to be productive or meaningful or at least useful. And somewhere in there, play became something we watched kids do while we sat on the bench scrolling our phones.

I was doing that too. Sitting on the bench. Watching.

Until I decided tobuy the skipping rope.

What Playing Actually Looks Like in My Life Right Now

If you know me at all, you already know this: I cannot walk past a swing without getting on it.

I will wait for the kids to finish.

I will absolutely take my turn. NO SHAME!!

But this year I pushed it further.

I started skipping during my daily walks. Just parts of them. Just enough to make myself laugh out loud, alone, on a trail, looking completely unhinged.

I started counting how many spins I can do before I get so dizzy I almost eat it. Nine. The answer is nine.

I drew hopscotch on the sidewalk.

I bought a skipping rope and used it in my front yard while my neighbours probably had questions.

None of this is a wellness protocol or a five step framework. It's just me, doing things that make me feel alive in a season where feeling alive has been harder to access.

Joy Doesn't Wait for the Hard Stuff to End

This is the part I want to say directly because I think a lot of people need to hear it.

You don't have to wait until life settles down to let yourself feel good.

Joy and difficulty can exist in the same space. They actually do, all the time. We just convince ourselves that it's not appropriate to feel light when things are heavy. That laughing feels wrong when there's something serious happening. That play is frivolous when there are real things to deal with.

It's not frivolous. It's necessary.

Play is how I stay connected to myself when everything else feels uncertain. It's how I remind my body that I'm still here, still alive, still allowed to feel something other than worry.

And honestly, the more I lean into these small ridiculous joyful moments, the more I remember why I built Blissful Being in the first place. To move through hard seasons with more presence, more support, and more of myself intact.

That's what we do inside the Inner Peace Club. We don't bypass the hard stuff or pretend everything is fine. We practice staying connected to ourselves through all of it. Real life. Real tools. Real moments of grounding when the world feels like a lot. You're always welcome there.

"Joy and difficulty can exist in the same space. They actually do, all the time."

Your Practice for Today

Here's what I want you to try. One thing. That's it.

Find something playful and do it today. Swing at the park. Dance in your kitchen. Skip down your hallway. Draw something with chalk. Spin until you're dizzy.

Do something that serves absolutely no purpose other than making you feel alive.

Then notice what happens in your body afterward.

That feeling? That's the whole point.

And then come tell me about it. Send me a DM, leave a comment, reply to the email that brought you here. Tell me what you did and how it felt. I want to hear all of it. The silly ones, the spontaneous ones, the ones that made you laugh so hard you snorted. This is better when we share it.

I've left a light on for you.

Shannan