Letting Go of Guilt and Living Authentically

Guilt has a way of sneaking in—especially when we dare to make space for something that’s healthy and fulfilling. It hovers in the back of our minds, lecturing that we don’t deserve the time we carve out for ourselves. As a mother, partner, caregiver, and a nurse I know this feeling all too well. There’s always something to be done—whether it’s caring for my 11-year-old daughter, chasing after my almost-2-year-old son, or giving my husband some well-deserved attention. And somewhere in all that, there’s… me. The woman who has an ever-growing love for painting, for creating, for losing herself in the brushstrokes of an oil painting. But somehow, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t deserve that time unless I’ve “earned” it.

Looking back, I think some of this stems from growing up with parents who really did have to earn their time off to enjoy anything. They had to grind to just get food on the table and they didn’t really have the luxury of leisure time or hobbies with 8 kids while living in poverty. So, they raised my siblings and I to work hard and earn our fun. And even then, did we really deserve it? Was our room clean? The dishes washed? Were the cows milked or our father properly fed? Their own trauma affected the way they parented us. And while I inherited a good work ethic that would serve me in my nursing career, I also inherited a sense of guilt any time I indulged myself. I’ve come to understand that while our upbringing shapes us, it doesn’t define us. I take responsibility for how I respond to the patterns I inherited—and I’m doing the work to change the ones that don’t serve me and my purpose. 

Art has been a lifelong calling. I’ve always been drawn to art, always had a creative spark, but it wasn’t until recently that I finally started picking up a brush. In 2023, I realized it was more than an inclination. The problem is, as much as I’ve fallen in love with the act of creating, there’s still this nagging voice in my head that tells me my passion needs to make money for it to be worthy of my time or that I have to have earned it by being extremely productive in other areas of my life. That voice makes me question whether it’s okay to just create, for the simple joy of it, without some “practical” end result. That being said, I am pursuing a career in art. But I have to remind myself that it is not about the dollars and cents. It's about the passion and calling to create. 

But here’s the thing: passion doesn’t have to justify itself.

Let me say that again. Passion doesn’t have to justify itself.

I talked about this in a previous blog, but the turning point came after I had my son. I began reflecting on what I wanted for my children, and I realized that I want them to follow their passions, not be bound by what’s “practical” or expected. But I wasn’t leading by example. I wasn’t pursuing my own passions the way I hoped they would one day pursue theirs. I decided to be true to myself and my passions. I also decided to be true to my personal convictions. From an objective point of view my life may look relatively the same. But subjectively, my world has been drastically transformed because of the changes in my mental health since making this decision to truly lean into who I am and who I want to be.

Of course, the guilt still shows up, uninvited. It tells me that I’m being selfish, that my time is better spent elsewhere. But I’ve learned to respond differently. I’ve learned that I don’t have to justify my creative time with the promise of financial gain or that I’ve checked enough things off my list from my other responsibilities or roles. The act of creation, in and of itself, is enough. I’ve come to realize that when I take time for myself—to paint, to dream, to nurture my creativity—I become a more authentic version of myself. I’m a better mother, a better wife, a better human. Maybe I am not a better nurse. To be honest, the further into my art career I venture, the more distance I create between my heart and my career in nursing. I value the experience I have had. I have touched people’s lives and they’ve touched mine in my nursing career. That chapter of my life feels almost ready to close. I still want to affect people and share my heart but with my art as the tool. I’m trading a stethoscope for a set of brushes and paint. And my soul says, “It’s about damn time.” My mental health has suffered long enough. 

So, now, when I step into my studio, I don’t feel the need to “earn” my time. I no longer feel guilty about putting my passion first for even a few hours. I’ve stopped measuring the worth of my creativity by its financial return or what I did to deserve creating. Instead, I measure it by the joy it brings me, by the peace I feel when I’m lost in the process. Art is a part of who I am. As a nurse I enjoyed the reward of helping someone but the process didn’t feed me. It drained me. With art, I enjoy the reward of blessing someone with something beautiful and meaningful to them and I get to enjoy the process too. 

We all deserve time to nurture the things that make us feel alive. And sometimes, the best gift we can give those we love is the gift of a fulfilled, happy version of ourselves. So take the time. Paint the picture. Write the poem. Carve wood. Get mud on your hands. Whatever it is that truly fuels you—don’t wait for permission ...and…Don’t wait at all. It's time.