Balancing Dreams, Family, and the Reality of Being an Artist

Sometimes the algorithm hits too close. Recently, while scrolling on social media, I came across a line that stayed with me: “When people die, their biggest regrets are never about what they did — but about what they never dared to do.”

It cut deep, because it speaks directly to one of my greatest fears.

Since February 2022, I’ve been married to Tarla — my muse, my partner, my everything. We live in Lisbon, a city I love but also one of the hardest places in Europe right now for a young couple to buy a house. At the same time, I hold a full-time job that easily takes more hours than I can control. And in the middle of it all, I carry this dream — my passion for painting.

Of course, in my heart, I’d love to have the courage to take the leap, to dedicate myself fully, to paint every day and live the life of a full-time artist. But I also dream of building a family, of buying a home. And I’ve made peace with this truth: I will always put my family before myself. If that means painting only in my free time, then so be it. That doesn’t mean I’ve given up on my dream. It just means I fight for it in a different way.

But let me tell you: painting in “free time” isn’t simple. Having ten minutes or even two hours doesn’t mean inspiration arrives on command. My small office doubles as a studio — one wall gives me space to paint canvases up to one meter, but everything else is storage and compromise. Brushes, oils, palette, mediums, and canvases live hidden, waiting for me to clear the desk where my laptop, notebooks, and office gear sit. Before I can paint, I must transform this space. And after a long day of work, sometimes that transformation feels impossible.

This is where fear enters: How can I pursue my dream while staying true to myself? How do I keep showing up after eight hours of work when all I want is to rest?

I won’t lie — there are days when I want to give up. To close the chapter, find another hobby, maybe join a gym, and forget the weight of this constant pull. But then there’s something inside me that refuses. A voice, a force, reminding me: this is what I was meant to fight for.

And that, perhaps, is what fear is teaching me. Not to paralyze me, but to make me ask questions. To remind me that dreams are never easy, that they demand sacrifice, and that the fight itself is part of the story.

So here I am, balancing dreams and responsibilities, fears and love. Hoping that one day, when I look back, I will not regret what I never tried.

Two self-portraits - Gustavo Romano