Adult colouring books are rapidly becoming a thing. I was first exposed to them last year as a way of combating depression and, since at the time I was willing to try anything to get rid of my depression, I gave them a whirl.
It didn’t work very well. This is probably because my artistic talent is completely limited to being able to string some sentences together. I can’t even draw stick figures!
When I was doing my spring clean, I found two little colouring books still hiding away in a drawer. God knows why I’d kept them for so long – through a move and three separate de-clutterings even.
But, there they were and so I decided to try again, thinking that perhaps colouring did have some merits even if it wasn’t the all-purpose cure to depression that a few people seemed to tout it as.
I coloured for about fifteen minutes and found myself fighting the urge to just stop and go do something else. My main problem was the fact that I found this activity to be useless and so I was anxious to not waste time on something that was completely unnecessary when I could be using that time to write or blog or clean or cross off one of the fifty items on my to do list.
In short, I think colouring might be really great as a way to unwind but I’m too conditioned into seeing it as unnecessary and so I wasn’t able to unwind enough to let it have any kind of meaningful effect on me.
I think I’ll try it again in a while and see whether my results differ.