I’ve always been the kind of person who falls hard into something. When something clicks with me, it clicks. Suddenly it’s all I can think about, talk about, and inevitably spend money on. That’s what this series is all about, diving into the joyful (and sometimes chaotic) world of hyperfixations. Right now, I’m completely, unapologetically obsessed with Pokémon.
Before I go any further, it’s worth mentioning that I’m autistic. Hyperfixations aren’t just quirky personality traits for me. They’re deeply fulfilling experiences, often providing a sense of focus, calm, and purpose. When something captures my attention, it becomes more than just a hobby. It becomes a world I live in, a language I speak fluently, and often, a safe space where I can retreat from the sensory overload of daily life. It’s not just fun, it’s necessary.
What’s interesting about my current hyperfixation with Pokémon is that it came back out of nowhere. I hadn’t engaged with the franchise in a meaningful way for years. Sure, I still respected it, and I always smiled when I saw Pikachu pop up in random places. But it wasn’t something I was spending time with, not since I was a kid trading cards on the playground and rushing home to catch the anime after school.
That all changed recently when I decided to pick up Pokémon Brilliant Diamond on a whim. I was looking for something relaxed to play on my own, something nostalgic and comforting. What I didn’t expect was to be immediately transported back to my childhood. The music, the world map, the familiar structure of gyms and rival battles, it hit me in all the right places. I felt like I had rediscovered a part of myself I didn’t realize I missed.
I played through the game at a rapid pace, completely absorbed by the experience. It wasn’t just about nostalgia, either. There was something meditative about it. The strategy of battles, the excitement of catching new Pokémon, and even the repetitive grind of training and it all clicked with me on a deep, sensory level. It felt like coming home.
But that was just the beginning. Around the same time, I started playing Pokémon Scarlet with my five year old daughter. And I can honestly say, it’s become one of the most cherished parts of my day. Every evening, we sit down together, explore the Paldea region, and discover new Pokémon side by side. Watching her face light up when she catches a new one or sees her favorite evolve, it’s priceless. It’s not just about the game anymore, it’s about bonding, creating memories, and sharing a part of my world with her in a way that feels genuine and joyful.
This hyperfixation has grown into something beautifully multifaceted. I’m not just playing the mainline games. I’m also diving into Pokémon GO, getting outside more often and enjoying the little adventures of catching Pokémon in the real world. I’ve started collecting the trading cards again too. There’s something incredibly satisfying about organizing them, admiring the art, and hunting down old favorites I used to own. I even found myself playing Pokémon Pocket Trading Card Game, which feels like the perfect blend of strategy and nostalgia.
And, because I clearly like to go all-in, I’m also watching the original Pokémon anime series again. Hearing that iconic theme song, following Ash and Pikachu through their early adventures, and spotting episodes I vividly remember from my childhood. Tt’s like reconnecting with an old friend. There’s a warmth to it that’s hard to describe, a kind of emotional safety net that wraps me up at the end of a long day.
What’s wild is how sudden it all was. I genuinely didn’t expect to fall back into Pokémon this deeply. It’s been so long since I gave it more than a passing thought. But now it’s part of my daily routine again, part of my conversations, part of how I connect with my daughter, and even part of how I regulate myself.
People sometimes ask why autistic folks get so deeply invested in certain things, why we go so far into our interests. But the truth is, these fixations are often the way we interact with the world. They’re a form of expression, a way of processing emotions, and a source of joy in a world that often feels overwhelming. Pokémon, for me, has become more than a game or a nostalgic trip. It’s a sensory joyride, a comforting rhythm, and a chance to build real emotional connections, both with the characters on screen and the people I love in real life.
So, if you see me out walking and catching Pokémon on my phone, or spending a little too much time reorganizing my card binders, or even humming the anime theme song under my breath, now you know why. I’m in the middle of something wonderful. This hyperfixation may have come out of nowhere, but it’s brought so much joy with it.
And honestly? I hope it sticks around for a while.