You know those routines you constantly read about on LinkedIn and in self-help books? The ones that say you should read for at least 15 minutes a day or 10 minutes every morning or half an hour every evening? The idea is to make it a habit so that you’ve read a mountain of books by the end of the year. Well, I tried that. I read a few books during that time, but I never enjoyed it. Reading just doesn’t excite me. It doesn’t give me that sustainable high. But I wanted to be good at my job. I wanted to be a role model.

Once, a university professor told me I needed a role model. I replied that I didn’t need one and that I wanted to carve my own path. Yet, often labeled as someone who does whatever I want anyway, I decided to give it a shot. I adopted a role model and started reading. I made it a habit. I became exceptionally good at my job at the time, but it didn't bring me joy. I still didn’t like reading. It took time away from sleep and just made me another LinkedIn person quoting each other.

So, I stopped. I stopped reading and quit all my jobs at the time. An insane decision if you asked my high need for security.

But here’s the twist: I started doing what I felt like every day, not just for weeks, but for months. It took time to shed my old mindset, ingrained by school, home, and university. And unintentionally, I found myself in a new routine. Accidentally. Because every time I felt so sad that I couldn’t stop crying, I started to draw. Just little sketches every now and then. At some point, someone saw my sketches in my flat and gave me my first commission. I made my first ordered canvas.

During a vacation, I thought it would be nice to have a block of postcard-sized paper. I took it as a gift for myself. It turned out to be the perfect companion for killing time on Berlin’s S-Bahn. I always get bored to death during those hours. And then I started painting in the hour I stayed awake after my evening workout. Just because it was fun. Not because I needed to force a healthy routine. I enjoyed painting, and I also enjoyed sending my sketches to friends. So my sketches didn’t just lie around; they created value.

And then, suddenly, people around me started recognizing me as an artist. I was introduced as an artist in new groups, and even strangers asked about my postcards. I received messages from more and more friends who saw me as an artist. I can’t describe how good it felt to finally be seen with an identity I was truly proud of. I felt honored. Don’t get me wrong, my profession was always interesting and I was good at my job, but I never felt like I wore a title with real pride.

It’s funny how life can change sometimes, isn't it?

Cheers, Franzi 🥂