Protecting What We Love
on sacred spaces, making peace, and choosing our own path
My therapist caught me in the middle of a spiral about work and money. "I know what I love doing. And this [fill in the blank career] stuff, I can do, but it isn't the thing I love."
She asked, "What does success mean to you?"
I had to pause.
It's a complicated question in a world where we're taught that everything we love must be monetized and that our hobbies and skills must constantly be optimized for profit. How do we disentangle fair compensation and putting food on the table from capitalistic thinking?
***
We talked about her friend who lives abroad and works at a store. They do their job well, but it isn't their passion. When they clock out, they do what they truly love: hiking, traveling, and filling their life with adventure. And here's the thing - they don't feel unsuccessful.
She called out this idea that we must endlessly love what we do for money as a very American concept. This idea that our deepest passion must be our career, that our hobbies must become our income.
While I haven't learned this lesson, I know some of the dangers of monetizing the things I love. Photography was once my joy - portraits and documentary work - until I started a business. Then every shot became about client demands and profit margins rather than creativity. It became a chore, something that drained rather than filled me. That experience taught me something vital about protecting what we love.
Sometimes, that pressure can ruin the very thing we cherish. Sometimes, our passions aren't meant to withstand the weight of that responsibility. Sometimes, we must keep them sacred.
***
What does success look like for me?
When it comes to what I want to do with my life, I have some clear yeses and nos. The thought of searching for a "career path" and equating my place in this world with that path fills me with anxiety.
But when I think about writing, there's a calm clarity. It feels like coming home.
So, for me, success in a career looks like making money: (1) to pay my bills, (2) in an ethical way, and (3) hopefully doesn't make me also hate the hours I sit at my desk.
But success in writing? It isn't about readership or publication or money. Success is showing up— putting words on the page and then having the courage to share them. It's a vote for that little creative inside of me who wants to make the world more beautiful in some small way.
Maybe these definitions of success— one for career, one for creativity— will change over time. But maybe they won't. And maybe that's okay.
How do you define success?