Do You Really Want to Turn Your Hobby Into a Job? Don’t Be So Quick to Envy Me.

One day I asked a close friend, “If you hate your job so much, why do you keep doing it?”

He snapped back, “Not everyone gets to do what they love for a living. Not everyone turns their hobbies into a career like you.”

I didn’t argue, but his words cut deep. Because that moment made me realize—even someone close to me didn’t understand what it actually took to get here.

Image: Grade 7, school outing. Little Johnny wearing a red cap backwards and dark sunglasses sits cross-legged, playing a white recorder. Dressed in a green shirt with a name tag, surrounded by other kids outdoors.

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People see me on stage, a blind martial artist winning medals, giving interviews, being featured.

They don’t see the hundreds of hours I’ve spent conditioning, doing pushups until my arms give out, fighting through injuries, or navigating public transit alone just to make it to a training session. They see the spotlight, not the shadows behind it.

They see me teaching self-defense to blind and visually impaired folks and think it’s noble and empowering. What they don’t see are the late nights fundraising, the times I’ve pulled money out of my own pocket, the endless hours arranging transportation, accommodations, access needs—just for students to not show up.

Image: Knife defense training scenario. Two men are facing each other closely. The man on the left, wearing glasses and a red and black jacket, is holding a training knife in his right hand, raised above his head as if about to strike downward. The man on the right, in a gray long-sleeve shirt, is using both hands to control the attacker's knife arm, gripping the wrist and forearm to prevent the downward motion. In the background, a woman in a blue shirt is watching and smiling, suggesting a class or workshop environment. The setting appears to be indoors, with padded walls, likely in a gym or martial arts studio.

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They see my artwork displayed in galleries, sometimes selling pieces. They don’t see the ten-hour days at my desk, the mountain of grant applications I’ve filled out, or the string of rejections I get in return.

They think counseling is easy—just “sit there and listen.” They don’t know the emotional toll, the constant repetition of trauma stories, or the years of tuition, training, and licensing it took just to qualify.

And here’s the hard truth:

When you turn your hobby into a job, nine times out of ten, you end up hating it. Take me for example. I’ve collected action figures for over 30 years—fantasy warriors, monsters, superpowered women, and comic book icons. I always thought working for a toy company like BigBadToyStore or 5K Toys would be a dream job. Writing descriptions, taking photos, researching toys? Hell yes.

Image: Action figures from the movie "The Suicide Squad" (2021) standing on a table, illuminated by a bright LED light source in the foreground. From left to right, the figures are: Harley Quinn in a red dress, Bloodsport in a dark suit with orange accents, Polka-Dot Man in a white suit with colored dots, Peacemaker in a red and white outfit with a silver helmet, and King Shark, a large gray humanoid shark wearing blue shorts. Behind them is a backdrop featuring a painting of trains on railroad tracks at sunset. The scene is set up as a display, with the figures posed as if ready for action.

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But last year, when I started an online toy shop with a friend, the dream turned sour.

I realized—I don’t love all toys. I love my  toys. When I had to spend hours researching and writing about Barbies, wrestling figures, tiny 3-inch Star Wars guys, or Star Trek collectibles I had zero interest in, it became a chore. The passion bled out. I started resenting the very thing I used to find joy in.

Image: Monster High doll with two heads, pale skin, and long blue and white hair. Both heads have dramatic makeup with bold eye designs and red lips. The doll is wearing a colorful outfit with an orange octopus accessory around the neck and chest area. The arms and hands have webbed, fin-like details, and the lower part of the outfit features dark fabric with bright patterns. In the background, there are some indistinct objects, including a white container with a label. The lighting is warm and a bit dim.

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That’s when I remembered an old story.

Long ago, there was a temple on a mountain. Inside was a statue of Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy, carved out of solid granite.

The path leading up the mountain was also paved with granite stones. Every day, thousands of worshippers walked up that path, stepping on those stones to reach the temple and pray.

One day, the stones on the path had enough. They said, “We’re made from the same rock as Guanyin. So why does she get worshipped while we get stepped on?”

So they climbed up the mountain to confront the statue. “You call yourself compassionate?” they said. “You sit high and mighty while we’re trampled on every day. Where’s the justice in that?”

Guanyin shed a tear and gently replied, “You only see me now, standing here, honored and revered. But do you know how much pain it took to carve every finger, every eyelash, every curve of this face? I had to endure a thousand blades to become this. You, on the other hand, were simply crushed and laid flat. How can you understand the pain I went through to stand here?”

That story says everything.

And here’s my second point:

I’m not telling you all this to say how great I am, or how hard I work compared to others.

Honestly? I’m pretty ordinary. I’m still far from “successful.”

What I want to say is this: If even someone like me —average, flawed, disabled—has to suffer this much, sacrifice this much, and fight this hard just to taste a little bit of recognition… then imagine how hard it truly is to achieve real greatness.

Image: Person wearing a red and black Adidas jacket with white stripes, featuring a "Team Canada" logo and a maple leaf with a fist. They have short dark hair and are wearing dark sunglasses. Around their neck is a green lanyard with the text "Richmond Olympic Oval, Canada" and "Games," holding a large gold medal. The background is a plain, light-colored wall. The person appears to be posing proudly, likely after a sporting achievement.

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So before you envy someone for turning their passion into a job, stop and think.

You’re looking at the statue.

But you haven’t seen the chisel.

Image: The action between the two fighters shows one person in a dominant position over the other. The fighter on top, wearing black clothing, shin guards, and a padded headgear, is kneeling with one knee on the mat and the other knee pressing down on the back of the opponent who is lying face down. The top fighter’s right hand is clenched in a fist and positioned above the opponent, as if simulating or preparing to throw a punch or strike. The fighter on the bottom, wearing a red padded headgear, appears to be covering their head with one arm, possibly in a defensive posture. This scene suggests a ground-and-pound scenario commonly seen in mixed martial arts training, where one person practices striking from a dominant ground position while the other defends.

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🌐 Want to see more of my work and story?

🎨 www.tigertactile.com – Accessible, blind-friendly tactile art

🎤 www.johnnytiger.com – Biography, features, and the Johnny Tiger Experience podcast

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