When Passion Turns into Profession (and Leads to Burnout)

This article is part of Mochi Magazine’s summer issue on Art — click here to read the rest of the issue.

Growing up as an Asian American, I was always encouraged by those around me to become well rounded and explore areas such as art, music, and sports. However, there was a firm understanding that these were just hobbies to bolster up my college admissions. They were also additional bragging points my mother could use when talking with other family members, rather than pathways to my career. It was all fun and games for my family until I wanted to major in something other than engineering or the medical field. 

First and foremost, my true love growing up was books, and reading as many books as I could in an obscene amount of time. I knew early on that I wanted to major in English and never strayed too far from that path. Although this was looked down upon by my family of doctors and dentists, this was something I was set on. At the same time, art was the main avenue for me to express different emotions. I look back and smile at the growth (and sometimes cringe) when I look at my pieces. Throughout college, I took art classes once or twice a year to have a fun distraction from dense theories and monotonous, lengthy essays. Creating art was a way for me to detach and do something that I knew. It was solely for my benefit and gave me the desire to get better. 

When I graduated college in the early months of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic was at its peak. I moved back near my mother to help take care of her, and I was desperate for a job. I never thought about getting a career in art since it had always been my way of relaxing and not something I had considered doing professionally. But before I knew it, I had landed a job as an art studio manager and teacher. 

As I turned one of my passions and hobbies into something I had to do for a living, I could no longer enjoy it as a form of relaxation and peace the way I had before. On one hand, I had so much joy in delving into an artistic job where all I did every day was paint and teach others how to paint. I have always been a digital and ink artist, but my skills were improving with acrylic paints, a medium I had never considered. However, off the clock, I didn’t want to create for myself anymore. I was no longer creating for self-expression, and was instead creating art based on rigid guidelines and specific styles meant for general consumption and aesthetics. 

The more I created and was pushed into specific holes by a corporate entity, the more I wanted to prove myself and go above and beyond to show that even though I was not in a field my family wanted me to be in, I was still able to do great things. Once something you’re passionate about turns into a profession, it is easier to be exploited because you love it so much: You’re willing to self-sacrifice, whereas in other cases, you are able to keep a good work-life balance. As a result, I pushed myself over and over to create pieces for others to consume and for corporate’s approval to the point where I no longer felt the artistic urge to create for myself —but only create what was asked of me. 

After I left that job and moved into editing and publishing, a part of me was somewhat terrified to pick up a paintbrush or my Apple pen again. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the urge to paint or draw, and avoided it entirely, as if I was scared of failing in something I was once so passionate about. It soon became difficult to reach for anything I used to be interested in — as if I would lose my enjoyment of anything I touched. 

One thing that helped me through the burnout was knowing that other people shared similar experiences. I saw others who had experienced the same type of burnout push past the hurdles and do what they love, simply because they wanted to once again. Looking at all the pieces I had created in the past that reflected my authentic vision and self reminded me of the pride in creating specifically what I want. Revisiting my art opened me up to sitting with others and creating again, without getting too much in my head about whether or not it will measure up to corporate scrutiny. I continually see people creating around me, and I’m inspired to create for myself again. There is no timeline for passions and hobbies; once you feel like you can pick something back up again, even if it’s just for a moment, it’s a win. 

After a year and some changes, I am finally able to feel like I’ve recovered from the burnout I had experienced. I feel like I can start creating for myself again without the pressures of perfection or the precarious nature of keeping a job based on it.

It is OK to find that the passion that turned into a job isn’t what you thought it was, and  — like me — may leave you feeling unsettled or unhappy. People can absolutely overcome this and have fulfilling and successful careers in what they love to do as a hobby. However, for me, it was best to keep my hobbies and my career separated in order to ultimately create what I desire and keep myself happy. 

Cover Credit: Fabienne Hubener/ Unsplash

Art by Lily Fuller