This advice shows up in every graduation speech—but does it actually help you move forward?

It was my second year working in finance, and I had just come back from a long client dinner where I spent three hours pretending I understood the appeal of luxury golf resorts.

I remember opening my fridge—half out of habit, half out of desperation—and seeing nothing but a sad bag of spinach and half a lemon.

I sat down at the kitchen counter and Googled, for the fiftieth time: “How to turn your passion into a career.”

Spoiler: I didn’t find the answer that night. But I did stumble into a rabbit hole that made me rethink the advice I’d been hearing for years—on podcasts, graduation speeches, even on Etsy mugs: Follow your passion.

Sounds good, right? But here’s the catch.

This advice sounds empowering, but it can quietly dismantle your self-worth, mess with your motivation, and leave you stuck chasing a version of yourself that doesn’t actually exist.

Let’s break down why.

The myth of the one true passion

First, let’s talk about the pressure of finding that one thing.

“Follow your passion” assumes you have a singular, glowing, pre-installed passion—like a USB drive of destiny—just waiting to be activated. But for most of us, passion doesn’t work that way.

When I left finance and started dabbling in writing, I thought I’d find the thing quickly. I tried travel blogging. Burned out. Then productivity coaching. Didn’t stick. Then a brief stint reviewing dog toys (don’t ask).

It wasn’t until I leaned into writing about personal growth—nerdy topics like habits, tracking progress, and the psychology of motivation—that something clicked.

But even then, the “click” wasn’t some euphoric fireworks moment. It was more like, Oh hey, I kind of want to keep doing this.

That’s how it usually works. Passions often reveal themselves through action, not introspection. You stumble into them. You test. You tweak. You notice what gives you energy after you’ve started.

Angela Duckworth, the psychologist behind Grit, has said:

“Passion for your work is a little bit of discovery, followed by a lot of development, and then a lifetime of deepening.”

In other words, it’s not found—it’s built.

Passion isn’t always practical

Here’s something that doesn’t get said enough: just because you love doing something doesn’t mean you’d love doing it as your job.

A friend of mine adores baking. But once she tried monetizing it—tracking orders, doing late-night inventory, making content for every cookie—the joy leaked out. It became work. Exhausting work.

When we follow our passion blindly, we risk turning something we love into a chore. Not everything we’re passionate about needs to become our career.

Sometimes a passion is more powerful when it stays a passion.

The money trap

Let’s also talk about the financial side.

“Follow your passion” often quietly assumes that you’ll somehow land a job or build a business that sustains you financially—just because you love it enough.

But love doesn’t pay the bills. Systems do. And support. And planning. And privilege.

A lot of passion-chasers burn out not because they weren’t talented or dedicated, but because they didn’t have the resources to give it the runway it needed.

I don’t say that to be discouraging. I say it because sometimes the smartest, most self-compassionate thing you can do is not jump all in.

One of my early coaching clients kept her full-time job for two years while slowly building her art therapy business. She called it her “stability sandwich”—a safe buffer that let her experiment without panic.

It’s okay to keep a job for the money and explore your passion on the side. That doesn’t make you a sellout. It makes you strategic.

Confusing identity with purpose

There’s a deeper layer here, too.

When we link our identity too tightly to one passion, it creates a fragile sense of self. What happens when that passion shifts? Or fizzles? Or fails?

If my whole identity is “I’m a writer,” then every rejection letter hits me—not just my work.

But if I say, “I’m someone who loves learning and sharing useful ideas,” then suddenly I can express that in a million ways—writing, speaking, consulting, even teaching.

That flexibility gives me freedom. And resilience.

You’re allowed to change. To have many “whys.” To follow what fits right now, even if it doesn’t make sense on paper.

The real question to ask instead

So what should you focus on instead of “follow your passion”?

Try this:

What do I want to get really good at?

This shifts the conversation from what feels good now to what could feel meaningful over time.

Passion feels like fireworks. Mastery feels like a slow-burning fire.

You don’t need to be lit up with excitement every morning. You need to care enough to keep showing up—and notice where your energy builds over time.

In fact, some researchers argue that passion often follows effort, not the other way around. Psychologist Paul O’Keefe, who studies motivation and interest development, notes that “people can develop a passion by engaging in activities and investing in them over time.”

In other words, you don’t have to wait for a lightning bolt of purpose. Sometimes, interest grows as you build skill. Sometimes, fulfillment shows up after consistency.

Mastery creates momentum. And momentum can feel a lot like passion.

Final words

The idea that you have to “follow your passion” to live a fulfilling life is well-meaning, but misleading.

You’re not behind if you haven’t found your one true thing. You’re not lost if you enjoy several things. You’re not failing if your job funds your hobbies instead of fulfilling your soul.

What matters more than passion is curiosity. The willingness to test things, to grow something slowly, and to build a life that reflects what you care about—even if it doesn’t fit on a motivational poster.

So the next time someone says “follow your passion,” try replying with:

“I’m building mine. One small experiment at a time.”