I’ve worked as a graphic designer for years now. It pays my bills, funds my grocery runs and allows me to treat myself to overpriced brunch on some weekends. My day job is fine. On most days, it’s even enjoyable. I work with several really talented people, I do what I am trained to do and I get to create for a living—which isn’t something I take for granted.
But even with all that, I’ve quietly noticed something—my side project feels more fulfilling than my job.
The more time I spend working on my side project aka this blog—this quiet little corner of the internet—the more I feel like me. Not the polished corporate version or team player in project standups. But the real me—the version that exists outside job titles, productivity metrics, or performance reviews.
And the more I notice this, the harder it’s been to ignore.
My Day Job Is What I Do—Not Who I Am
For a long time, I equated my job with my identity. Like a lot of us, I tied my worth to what I produced and how others received it. I wanted to be seen as competent, talented, reliable. And I was—I am. Being good at your job matters. It is a reflection of your skills and your ability to meet expectations. But I’ve started to realise that while my work shows part of who I am, it doesn’t capture the whole picture.
I used to wonder why I felt drained even on days when work wasn’t particularly stressful. Why I looked forward to evenings not just for rest, but for the chance to create on my own terms. I’ve come to realise it wasn’t just about the job—it was a mix of things, some I understood, some I didn’t yet have the words for. As much as I appreciate my day job, it doesn’t speak to all of me. It reflects my skills, sure—but not necessarily my soul.
The Side Project That Feels More Fulfilling Than My Job
This blog started as a casual thing. A passion project. A creative outlet. A place to express my thoughts in (hopefully) a healthy way. A digital journal slightly better formatting. I didn’t plan for it to become a mirror—one that showed me parts of myself I had covered in the name of “being professional” or “being practical.”
Writing here feels different. I am not trying to impress a client or meet a quote. I am just.. showing up. Being as honest as my thought allows. Reflecting on what it’s like to be in my 30s—navigating the ups and downs—that strange in-between place where everything feels both familiar and new. Where you are technically an adult but still figuring out what that really means for you.
There’s no pressure to be perfect here. I can explore different ideas, write at my own pace, and let my thoughts take up space without needing to fit a mould. The freedom is intoxicating—but what really surprises me is how this space makes me feel seen, even before anyone reads a single word.
It’s Not Just Creative—It’s Personal
One thing I’ve come to realise is that creativity at work often comes with boundaries. There’s a brief, a brand voice, a hierarchy of approvals. Even the most “creative” jobs come with structure. And that’s not inherently bad. Structure keeps things moving. It helps you collaborate and deliver. But over time, that structure can become a box.
My side project, on the other hand, is a blank page. I get to write from the heart, not from a guideline. I can explore thoughts that don’t really fit neatly into a pitch deck or presentation. I can be messy, human, unsure. I can write about friendship breakups, the weight of turning 30, the quiet pressure to “have it all together.” This space is open for reflection, for questions, for explorations.
And through that process, I feel closer to myself—more connected to others than I ever have in any Teams meeting.
Why it Feels So Fulfilling
Maybe it’s because I am not trying to build a brand empire—most importantly I am not trying to be someone else. I am not trying to fit into someone else’s brand. This project doesn’t have KPIs—it has meaning. It’s a space where I can be curious without consequence or even judgement.
The meaning of this project isn’t tied to metrics or milestones. The meaning is in the process itself—in showing up honestly, even when the words feel tangled or the ideas feel too small. It’s about having a space that reflects who I am beyond a job title, a to-do list, or a polished portfolio. This blog lets me name the things I’m feeling, trace the threads of what matters, and give weight to moments that might otherwise slip unnoticed.
Some days I write a lot. Other days, just a sentence or a simple design for social media post. But each time I return to it, I feel a sense of calm and fulfilment that I rarely feel in my 9-5. This project isn’t a checklist item—it’s an emotional release. A reconnection, a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding.
It’s Not About Quitting My Job—It’s About Finding Myself
To be clear, I’m not writing this as a dramatic declaration that I am quitting my job to become a full-time blogger (though I admire those who do). I do enjoy having a steady pay cheque, a job that uses my design skills and the chance to learn new things alongside others. But I also recognise that fulfilment doesn’t always come from one place.
Sometimes, the thing that lights you up isn’t the thing that pays your rent—at least not right away. And that’s okay.
Still, I won’t lie that there’s a part of me that hopes this space might grow into something more one day. Something sustainable. Maybe even something I could build a living from. But whether or not that happens, what this side project has already given me is a sense of ownership over my voice. It’s reminded me that I’m allowed to have interests that are not monetised, passions that aren’t “optimised” and creative expressions that don’t need a client’s approval. It’s shown me that even if my day job represent what I do, this blog represents who I am becoming.
Letting it Be Enough
In a world that always pushing us to do more, be more and earn more, having a space that simply is—with no performance attached—feels revolutionary and fulfilling.
This side project isn’t flashy. It doesn’t have a viral numbers or sponsors. But it’s real. It’s mine. And right now, it’s more than enough—because it feels more fulfilling than my job ever has.
If you have a project like this—something that calls to you quietly, something that feels like home—I hope you give yourself permission to follow it. Not for the algorithm, not for external validation. But for yourself. Because sometimes, the softest parts of us hold the loudest truths.
