The problem started about 10 years ago, when I had been with my wife for a few years. We would spend time together, but also we'd spend time doing our own hobbies in the same space. I was a musician, composer, and gamer, while she had interests that involved making things: sewing, crochet, drawing, cooking.
As we spent more time together, I realized I was jealous that she could find so much pleasure creating tangible things with her hands. All of my interests involved screens, headphones, and plenty of abstraction. I made music, but I never touched it or hung it on my wall. I had never even burned myself with a hot glue gun.
We had a big box with thick cardboard in our garage, and one night I decided I wanted to make something with it. It was enormous and the cardboard was double-thick. It was just begging to be sliced and glued and repurposed. The moment I decided to try the project, it was like a million lights turned on in my brain all at once. I got some paper, started sketching; started measuring, started measuring my sketch, started hunting for other things I could glue to the cardboard.
I fell hard into this project idea; boy was I obsessed. I did not finish it, which like-minded readers probably guessed. But I did finish several engaging sub-projects, and I enjoyed plenty of memorable hot-glue burns. I started tagging along with my wife to the arts and crafts stores, and I kept hunting for project ingredients. I started seeing possibilities in silly junk, and I'm still proud that I haven't become an irredeemable hoarder.
What I cherish most about this experience is that for the first time, I was truly empowering my imagination. I was allowing myself to try things that excited my braincells.
Slowly, I learned other things about myself. I realized that I just could not fight the pull towards new projects and interests, any more than the ocean could fight the pull of the moon. It was painful to look at so many dusty, unfinished endeavors that had once kept me completely enthralled.
I had always had this tendency. But I had historically been able to talk myself out of taking any risks or stepping outside my comfort zone. Gradually, I've learned to think of my passions as though they come and go like tides. If I shift away from one interest, I'll either come back to it because it's still got more to offer, or I'll try to let it go without guilt.
To support healthier habits, I have a couple games I like to play. One is to look for ways to use one hobby in support of another. I might not be interested in 3d printing for months on end, but I can use my skills in it to create parts for whatever thing I'm trying to build. I might not always be interested in trombone or guitar, but both of them can play microtonal music, which enriches that passion quite a lot.
The other game I play is to always seek cheap or free tools and materials. If I don't have lots invested in an endeavor, I won't feel too bad if I don't pick it back up. This also applies to time management, but I haven't figured out a fun way to manage my time. I'm open to suggestions.