The Guilt Behind Doing What You Love

Top/ Pants (old Gap)/ Shoes (old Zara) / Sunnies/ Vintage Necklaces

Do you ever feel guilty spending money or time on things you love?

 

Not because you don’t have the time or can’t afford it, but because part of you wonders if you’re allowed to enjoy life that easily.

 

Anything that feels nourishing can also stir up some discomfort: Is this too much? Am I being irresponsible? Do I really need this?

 

I’ve been pondering these questions for years.

 

I love art, antiques, clothing, interiors, and the feeling of being surrounded by beauty. It’s like a big nervous system exhale to me. My Venus is in Taurus, along with my North Node, so part of my path seems to be learning how to trust what feels good.

 

But pleasure has never felt entirely easy to relax into.

 

I’ve often worried that if I let myself enjoy too much, I could overdo it. Overspend. Overconsume. Lose motivation. Lose sight of what actually matters.

 

So even when something feels deeply aligned, guilt can creep in. But I’ve started to catch it and see it differently.

 

A few weeks ago, I told my mom I felt uncomfortable sharing affiliate links and style collages online because they felt so lavish and over the top.

 

My mom laughed. “You care so much. And you’re overthinking it. Just keep going for it. You’ll figure it out.”

 

She was right. So with a little encouragement, I’ve kept creating and trusting that my deeper reason would eventually reveal itself.

 

For me, the joy isn’t just in buying things. It’s in noticing them. Studying beautiful design, quality craftsmanship, and the details that make a piece feel special. I can fall in love with something whether it costs $10 or $1,000. If I like it, I like it—the price is almost beside the point.

 

What matters to me most is the inspiration. Pulling together beautiful images, noticing patterns, and translating what I’m seeing into a point of view feels deeply energizing. But I never want my content to create pressure or urgency to buy. My hope is that it invites you to pause, take a deep breath, and appreciate the beauty in whatever catches your eye.

 

And as I’ve gotten clearer on why I’m drawn to certain pieces, what I believe about personal style, and how I want to support others in building wardrobes they truly love, the guilt has relaxed.

 

The same thing has happened in my relationship with shopping over the years. When I was younger, shopping felt so carefree and exciting—browsing catalogs that came in the mail, going to the mall on weekends, trading clothes with friends.

 

Over time, the endless stream of new arrivals, newsletters, and inspiration started to feel overwhelming. There is always something new to discover, always something to try. Without a way to filter it, I would often end up shutting it all out.

 

It’s easy to forget how distorted our sense of normal spending has become. According to a quick google search, only 16% of Americans make over $200k per year. But the volume of new things we see in our inboxes and on our phones makes it feel like buying constantly is normal. When you stop and do the math, it just isn’t realistic.

 

As I’ve allowed myself to build more slowly, I’m falling more in love with my closet every day. Creative. Comfortable. Confident. A wardrobe that reflects how I most want to feel.

I now understand my closet in a very practical way—by category and by season, through years of experimenting and actually wearing things (see my outfits here).

 

I think in categories—denim, jackets, shoes, bags. It helps me understand what I actually have, what I’m using, and what’s missing. My shopping list has become a mix of priority items, would like to haves, and space for the occasional piece that simply catches my eye.

 

A few years ago, my focus was on building the foundation of my wardrobe. I wanted enough beautiful, functional pieces to support my day to day life.

 

The right range of denim. Great jackets. Cashmere sweaters. Shoes I could walk in. Bags in every color I’d use for years. Classic belts to ground looks. Special vintage scarves and jewelry that made everything feel more like me.

 

That phase gave me a sense of direction and softened a lot of shopping guilt. But my philosophy is always evolving.

 

These days, I’m asking deeper questions like:

 

  • How big do I actually want my closet to be? What is enough?

  • How much newness do I want to buy each season or year?

  • Which pieces deserve to stay? What goes?

  • What actually supports the life I’m living now?

I used to think in targets—like a 600-piece closet, or a set monthly budget—but I’m moving away from that. I’m realizing bigger isn’t always better, and that shopping with intention simply takes time.

 

I’m less interested in accumulating and more interested in refining—styling what I already own in new ways, letting go of pieces that no longer serve my real-life needs, and slowly updating my wish list as I go. I really love using ShopMy as a place to collect and bookmark things that catch my eye so I can return to them later.

 

Shopping can be creative. It can be expressive. It can be fun. And it feels really good to know what we actually like and want and let that guide the pace. Not everything beautiful is meant to be acted on. Sometimes it’s just meant to be seen and remembered.

 

The guilt was never really about spending money. It wasn’t about affiliate links. It wasn’t even about pleasure. It was about trusting my desires:

 

  • Can I trust myself to enjoy what I love without losing myself in it?

  • Can I receive without feeling irresponsible?

  • Can I build a life around what feels good and know that I’m doing it consciously?

I’m learning that the answer is YES.

 

So if guilt shows up around the things you love, remember—it isn’t always a sign that you’re doing something wrong. It may be inviting you to come back into alignment with what you truly desire and what genuinely nourishes you.

 

Sometimes guilt is the beginning of clarity—and freedom too.

Leave a Reply

Shopping Cart

Discover more from Jillian Bremer

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading