The Strange Comfort Of My Hyperfixations

Recently, I watched all 11 seasons of The X-Files and two movies in under 8 weeks. For a while, it became my entire world. Every spare moment I had was spent watching the next episode, thinking about the characters, or trying to stretch the experience just a little longer.

Then I finished it. That came the inevitable post-binge crash. It’s that strange, empty feeling when the thing that’s been occupying your brain for weeks suddenly disappears. You find yourself wishing there were just one more episode to watch, wondering what you’re supposed to look forward to now.

Now all I can really do is watch edits on TikTok and YouTube compilations of Mulder and Scully’s relationship evolution. I can rewatch a couple of my favorite episodes, but it’s not the same as experiencing them for the first time.

This probably sounds a little depressing, and maybe slightly unhinged. But there actually is an upside to having hyperfixative tendencies.

I look back at my hyperfixations as anchors in my personality. They mark different phases of my life and the things that mattered deeply to me at the time.

For the longest time, I was completely obsessed with Marvel. I still go to every movie in theaters and watch every new show that comes out, but I’m not rewatching my favorite Marvel movies over and over again like I used to. I swear I’ve probably watched Black Widow more times than anyone on this planet. But I look back at that phase with a lot of fondness. I still consider myself a Marvel nerd, and I even made several friends through that community.

Before Marvel, my hyperfixation was Friends. I’ve watched the entire series from start to finish at least ten times. It’s come in handy, considering my friends’ knowledge has proven surprisingly useful—it’s such a shared cultural reference point that there’s almost always someone who understands the joke.

My hyperfixations extend beyond media. When I was little, my hyperfixation was tigers. I made sure everyone knew it. I absolutely had to wear a tiger shirt on my birthday. Also, I read books about tigers, watched every Animal Planet and National Geographic special about them, and absorbed as many facts as I could. Eventually, all that information had to go somewhere, so when I was in 3rd grade and had indoor recess, I sat my entire class down and gave them a lecture on tigers.

I also went through an astronomy phase after watching How the Universe Works with my family. Suddenly, I was learning niche theoretical terms and becoming fascinated by relativity. Not surprisingly, I did really well in science classes during those years.

My hyperfixations are really just evidence of my heart.

I’m someone who loves things deeply. I pay attention to detail. I don’t leave stones unturned. These “things” aren’t just passing interests—they’re pieces of me, and they’ve shaped who I am today.

Of course, every hyperfixation eventually fades. The show ends, the rabbit hole runs out, and the thing that once filled your thoughts suddenly goes quiet. The crash afterward can feel a little empty, like finishing a really good book and realizing there aren’t any more pages left. But if my life so far has taught me anything, it’s that another hyperfixation is always around the corner. Something new will spark my curiosity, capture my attention, and become my entire world for a while. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade that cycle for anything.

Each one of my hyperfixations leaves behind a little piece of itself—new knowledge, shared memories, inside jokes, and parts of my personality that stick around long after the obsession fades. Maybe hyperfixating just means I get to fall in love with the world over and over again, one fascination at a time.

Featured image via JESHOOTS.com on Pexels