Creating a Life I Love —After a Burnout
Burnout doesn’t hit like a crash. It sneaks in—slow, quiet, unrelenting.
I didn’t even see it happening until I was drowning in it.
The slow onset? I ignored it.
Bad day? Shake it off. Keep pushing.
As artists, what other way do we know?
I quit tattooing. I went silent.
Wanna know what happened?
I sank even deeper into a depression—no art, no income, no direction.
But I refused to budge.
I hated tattooing.
My back ached, my hands were tight, my drive was gone.
How was I supposed to create when I could barely stand?
Negativity was at an all-time high.
And I had backed myself into a corner.
Closing my studio felt like relief—at first.
Then I realized I wasn’t just walking away from a business…
I was walking away from me.
For twelve years, I built something I thought I wanted.
I poured everything into it.
But in the end, it wasn’t whole to me.
One of my mentors once told me: Burnout happens when what you do no longer aligns with what you believe.
And I felt that.
So I stopped fighting for a version of myself that didn’t exist anymore.
This is where you choose:
Keep living for expectations that aren’t yours… or start honoring what actually feels right.
I turned to anything but tattooing.
Started a cleaning business. Learned to trade stocks.
Built websites, designed logos—just to survive.
But healing didn’t come from escaping.
It came from making space.
I exercised, meditated, journaled…gave my mind room to breathe.
I stopped forcing art and let my inner child play again.
Sketching, painting, calligraphy—random projects with no expectations.
I watched my kids draw and started joining them.
Doodling book covers. Playing with colors.
And I liked it.
I watched live shows, and saw musicians lose themselves in the flow—
Fully present, fully alive.
And I felt that.
Slowly, I started tattooing again—just two days a week, for people I wanted to.
Without pressure, without force.
And for the first time in years, I enjoyed it.
That’s when I realized what I had truly lost all those years:
The inner child in me.
The artist who once had so much wonder.
Where did he go?
He had been buried under deadlines, expectations, and exhaustion.
Snuffed out. Ignored.
Not anymore.
Burnout robbed me of my love for art.
But now?
I create without pressure. I tattoo with joy. I wake up feeling lighter.
My art belongs to me again.
I built a life that fuels me instead of drains me.
And if you’re deep in burnout, just know—there’s a way out.
On the other side?
You might just find yourself again.
You are not lost. You are in transition.
