I suffer from a mindset that I’m sure mothers, artists, hell, anyone probably can relate to. It’s the “I can always do more” mentality. There’s always more I could have done with the kids, no matter if I did everything I could possibly fit in a day, been as patient as I possibly could be, cooked and ran as many errands as I could have ran in a day. I still could have done more. The same with my career, I work in the art industry. There’s always one more drawing I could have done, one more client I could have booked. What I’ve accomplished never seems to matter if the whole to do list isn’t done. And it’s never done, it’s always evolving. Because of this mentality, I often find myself in a state of burning out. Exhausted, complaining to my husband for a break I can only give myself. My supportive husband is so kind, he tries to do what he can to help me accomplish whatever I need to do to feel “on top of things” for that day, but even he tries to gently warn me that I’m burning out. I say gently, because I am stubborn as hell, and god forbid someone tells me I can’t do something or I shouldn’t. He even reminds me of what the cards have told me that week (what they always tell me) slow down, balance, rest. Needless to say, it’s a hard lesson for me to learn, and it’s a wall of exhaustion I run at.
Well recently, I got to learn the magical version of hitting that wall.
I have long played with the idea of selling spell jars. I love spell jars. I love making them, gifting them, I love spending time writing down the recipes, building the spell on paper before putting it to work. Jars have helped me combine my Heathen practices with my Romani practices. Previously I practiced the way I was taught, with pouches. But after a long frustrating battle with losing them in the laundry, and growing wearing from finding them time and time again in my washer, jars were gods sent. And what a better way to combine my Rune and sigil work with my Romani craft.
Being very much a definition of my Empress archetype, I love helping and assisting others. I often gift jars to my friends and loved ones. My husband has his own collection near his side of the bed. They make me happy to create, they give me a calmness I cannot find anywhere else.
I suspect that because I am a professional artist by career the next logical step was to take what I love so much and sell it. I was very excited and very passionate about the idea. I did the research on the materials, I thought of almost every angle I could imagine. I was confident and ready. Unfortunately, it wasn’t till I finally got my first opportunity to make a jar for profit, did I quickly realize I over looked an important ingredient. Energy.
I did not take in to account the amount of energy every jar required from me.
Some more background information on me. I have one teenager, one preteen, a four month old, husband, dogs, cats, a business to run (where I also teach), as well as a household to run. And that’s not including what I do for myself like working out and occasionally trying to remember to at least throw in some dry shampoo in my who-even-knows-how-long-it’s-been unwashed hair. You would think I would recognize this as having enough on my plate, but unfortunately, that is never the case.
So like any human making an obvious mistake, I decided to take on making a house jar (a huge undertaking that requires a lot of energy) after a long night with the baby, a morning of work, and who knows that else. I mean, common, what’s one more thing, right? It’ll be fine!
Spoiler alert: It was not fine. I created a wonderful house jar that I am still proud of. But at the cost of completely exhausting myself and then some. I was dizzy, tired, unfocused, I could have easily taken a nap. I could feel the cloud of strong opinions floating around my ancestral altar. I was so drained, my empath of a teenager was growing more and more concerned for me as she watched me stumble around the house. I felt like I had learned a really big lesson, but I was too spent to even figure it out.
A couple of hours later, I met up with my client and dropped off their jar. They absolutely loved it, and seeing that almost made it worth it. But not quite.
And that’s when I realized something:
Just because I could try to make a business out of selling these jars, doesn’t mean I should.
More importantly; just because I could do more, does not mean I have to.
I’ll be honest, just writing that statement out feels like blasphemy! What a concept. One that I would have shoved past and ignored if I had not worked myself into severe exhaustion.
Since that realization my husband and I had a gentle talk, in which I admitted he had been right all along, and that selling jars, or any magical products or service, was not a reality. And that was okay.
This is a huge step for me. One that I oddly enough feel so committed too. Will I apply this to the other parts of my life (And save myself from having to learn a different version of same lesson the hard way?) Probably, maybe, we’ll see. Hey, I’m only human. And a stubborn one at that.
Until then, I’ll keep gifting jars to my loved ones, I’ll keep writing out those recipes, and staying in love with my craft.
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I suffer from a mindset that I’m sure mothers, artists, hell, anyone probably can relate to. It’s the “I can always do more” mentality. There’s always more I could have done with the kids, no matter if I did everything I could possibly fit in a day, been as patient as I possibly could be, […] -
I suffer from a mindset that I’m sure mothers, artists, hell, anyone probably can relate to. It’s the “I can always do more” mentality. There’s always more I could have done with the kids, no matter if I did everything I could possibly fit in a day, been as patient as I possibly could be, […] -
I suffer from a mindset that I’m sure mothers, artists, hell, anyone probably can relate to. It’s the “I can always do more” mentality. There’s always more I could have done with the kids, no matter if I did everything I could possibly fit in a day, been as patient as I possibly could be, […]
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