After losing my job, I realized I needed an escape from unemployment. A new hobby helped me find it.

• Last year, I lost my job and started taking ice skating lessons, a childhood dream of mine.
• Spending hundreds on skates and coaching wasn’t ideal, but it eased my anxieties about unemployment.
• The sport also reminded me of my tenacity in a time when I felt like a failure and truly powerless.

When I was laid off from my job in early 2025, I knew I’d need to tighten up my budget to make ends meet until I found my next role.

Naturally, in the throes of unemployment, I decided to make the most irrational financial decision and pick up one of the most expensive sports as a new hobby: ice-skating.

Growing up, I begged my mom for skating lessons, and she eventually agreed. However, even at 10 years old, I felt so much older than the other kids in my class, so I stopped going.

Fast forward about 20 years, and I was unemployed and needed an escape from job hunting.

Even though it would be pricey — especially for someone with limited finances — I decided to give skating another try and allow this childhood dream to come to life.

Between the $350 skates, over $100 in group lessons, an additional $100 an hour for private coaching, and the extra warm clothing and knee pads I bought to protect my aching body, I had already spent over $600 just in my first month.

On top of that, I was paying nearly $20 to reserve the rink for about an hour each time, and another $20 every few months to have my skates sharpened. I also couldn’t say no to buying skirts that I hoped to one day twirl in while gliding on the ice.

If I had been younger, I wouldn’t have recognized the financial strain this hobby could cause.

However, since I was an unemployed 30-year-old, I had to budget accordingly and treat this as a serious investment, not a casual activity, even though I knew I would never be an Olympian.

Even if I could only afford 60 minutes at the rink some weeks, I would make the most of every second.

Turns out, it was the best solution for curing my unemployment funk.

Being on the ice helped get me off my phone and lighten my worries about finding a job

During this unemployment saga, it felt like I was always glued to my phone, checking in with my network about job leads, scanning Indeed and LinkedIn for new opportunities, and doomscrolling after being rejected for yet another job I was overqualified for.

After several sessions on the ice, I discovered this hobby was the solution to reducing my screen time, which in turn eased a lot of my anxieties.

If I had my phone out while I was at the rink, I was wasting my time and limited money. I had to leave all of it at the gate and concentrate on what I was doing lest I fall and injure myself, all while not having insurance.

My coach, a longtime skater who incidentally is also a licensed therapist, helped tremendously with this balance.

Even though our relationship was strictly that of coach and student, she offered a perspective on persistence and growth through this new, all-consuming sport.

As someone who correlates so much of their personhood and worth to their accomplishments, being loudly and proudly new and bad at something reminded me of my strengths and tenacity.

Not giving up on skating reflected in my search for a new role, because 11 months later, my job search would officially end with the title I so desperately wanted.

I may be employed now, but the ice is still always there for me

Ice skating may have been the dumbest financial idea I had during my unemployment, but it gave me a sense of control at a time when I felt powerless.

It gave me a goal beyond survival. It reminded me that I’m human and I still have so much to learn about myself and the world.

I’ll never forget the rush I’d feel when a new skill finally “clicked” on the ice, eclipsing the disappointment and misery from all the rejections, ghosting, and immense feelings of failure.

When I made the hard decision to take a hiatus from skating toward the end of my unemployment and refocus on my budget, my coach affirmed one thing: “The ice will always be there.”

Sure, I need money to live my life, but I won’t actually enjoy the fruits of my labor if I let constant stress overwhelm me. Skating taught me to prioritize whimsy for its own sake.

Every leap and glide brought a rush of blood into my veins, reminding me that I’m alive, and I’m so grateful for that.

The runny noses and numb toes from hours at the rink no longer bother me.

I’d rather be breathing and have a chance to get back up after I fall, rather than not trying at all.