The Hidden Cost of Doing What You Love

A story about creative energy, intuition, and the art of discernment.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the currency and current of life force.

How do I carve a clear path for that current to run through my creative process—especially when my art becomes a business?

Making art has always felt like a flow state for me. It’s natural, nourishing, and often the most grounded part of my day. — But monetizing that art?! — Whole different story.

Keeping up with Instagram, designing new offerings, writing emails, marketing—it’s a lot. It requires energy. Not just time or focus, but actual life force.

And so I keep returning to the question:
How do I shape my work to nourish my life—not drain it?

If you haven’t read my last post on April’s theme, check it out here:

April Theme: Life Force

The Cost of Doing What You Love

The work I do is a sacrifice. A meaningful one. One I love, and look forward to. But it still costs something. It pulls away time and brain space from my kids, from my marriage, from my other forms of self-care and connection. It gives so much back to me, yes—but if I’m not paying attention, it can start to take more than it gives.

That’s where discernment comes in.

A Less-Serious Word for a Very Real Practice

Discernment sounds like such a serious word, but sometimes it’s just a quiet thumbs-up or thumbs-down. (Or, honestly, thumbs-neutral.)

It’s asking, “What do I need?” and being honest about the answer—even when it’s different than the one you gave last week. Even when the answer surprises you. Even when it goes against what seems smart, or efficient, or impressive.

That’s your job as the artist.
That’s your job as the maker of your own life.

To tell yourself the truth about what’s working, and what isn’t.

When Smart Doesn't Make Sense

Let me tell you a story about when my husband and I decided to move from Austin to New York just after getting married. We were coming off a really nomadic stretch of life—traveling constantly, barely a schedule, always on an adventure. And while that chapter had its magic, we were craving something different. We wanted to put down roots. Start a family and create some kind of rhythm.

Living on my parents’ land in New York seemed like the obvious answer. It was beautiful—28 wooded acres with a garden, a stream, and built-in childcare. It felt like the smartest move, the most practical decision we could make.

And maybe that’s what made it so hard to see, at first.

Because sometimes, living out of alignment doesn't feel like a dramatic wrong turn—it feels like... nothing. You check all the boxes, do what makes sense, and still find yourself wondering: why doesn’t this feel like home?

I’d felt out of sync before, especially in certain jobs—but nothing had ever felt this all-encompassing. There was a sense of permanence to it that made the ache sharper. My brain kept insisting we’d made the right call. But my heart kept tugging in another direction. And I could see it in my husband too—we were both trying to make it work, but something else (our life in Austin) was calling us back.

We were stuck between what looked good and what felt true.
Between living smart and living wise.

Who's Leading?

Time after time, I’ve learned that my brain can only process a fraction of what I know.

It’s useful, but it’s not the full picture. And I don’t actually feel good when I only follow my brain.

My intuition lives in my heart.
And that’s who I want to follow.
She’s a good one.

I had to use my whole body to discern between the two choices. And then I had to allow that truth to be part of my life. Even when it was inconvenient.

We all know that feeling, don’t we? Being in the wrong place, or job, or relationship. Wanting it to be right. Trying to convince yourself it could be. But deep down, something’s off.

You try to override it with logic, gratitude, practicality. You tell yourself it’s just a phase. But the whisper grows. And then one day, it’s not a whisper anymore—it’s a full-body knowing.

Your Turn: A Question to Sit With

What would change if you treated your energy like sacred currency?

Closing Thoughts

There’s no final arrival point when it comes to discernment—it’s something we do again and again. What worked beautifully last season might not serve you now. And that’s okay. The power lies in noticing the shift, honoring the signal, and trusting yourself enough to course correct. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to want something different. Listening to your life—that’s the real art.

Jaime is a working artist based in Austin, Texas. She graduated from Pratt Institute with a degree in Interior Design and a minor in creative burnout. Seeking a deeper connection with her body, she went on to dedicate the next 10 years of her life to studying Yoga and Meditation with some of the top teachers in North America.

She started painting while pregnant with her first child and quickly realized her watercolor practice provided a safe space to remember herself, loosen the tendency for control and regain a quiet mind space. Because of this she dedicated any free moment she could (with two kids) to her paints.

Jaime offers artwork and experiences that encourage a deeper connection with your perfectly imperfect nature.

Community principles & values

Cultivating a kind and supportive community

Creating a safe and inclusive community within the artistic process is something I value deeply. My painting classes and retreats are for individuals of all artistic levels—and I strive to create a space that fosters and encourages collaboration, exploration and an openness to unique perspectives and diverse lived experiences. The same can be applied to this substack ~ open to everyone and a champion of kindness.