Pushed By Pain

I raced out of the store I was managing to sit quietly in my car, desperate to steady my breathing. My heart pounded in my ears, as if the bottom two-thirds of my lungs had stopped working. Panic attack? Maybe. All I knew was I needed five quiet minutes away from the calls over the intercom—“Manager override checkstand two… backup cashier please…”—and away from the complaints that somehow felt aimed at me personally.

I had sworn as a teenager that I wouldn’t grow into one of the discontented thirty-somethings I worked under. Yet sixteen years later, here I was. Somewhere between bagging groceries and sorting bottles, I had overstayed my career evaluation time.

The realization hit: I was in the wrong place, period.

The laughter I heard from coworkers was mostly at someone else’s expense, and I often suspected I’d be next. My Myers-Briggs results told the same story—INFP in a career built for ESTJs. A career counselor tried to nudge me forward in retail, pointing out my promotions and track record. But her words sparked the opposite. That frustration became fuel.

Five years earlier, I had returned to Pendleton to work for my mentor, Lou Ver Baere—the portrait photographer everyone sought out. He once told me I already had what I needed to succeed, even if I didn’t believe it yet. “Keep shooting those beautiful landscapes,” he said, “but put a family or senior in front of them.” That was the breakthrough: merge what I loved with what people valued.

So I did. In 1996 I cashed out my 401K, turned my basement into a studio, and launched Prints Charming Photography (now Studio B Photography). Within months, I entered my first professional competition and won the Fuji Masterpiece Award. Kodak later published my work at Epcot Center. Failure wasn’t an option.

The years that followed were fueled by little sleep, long hours, and a fierce desire for freedom. Freedom to claim my wins, learn from my mistakes, and build a life my kids could grow up seeing. Travel I once only dreamed of as a manager—Japan, the Bahamas, Kenya, New Zealand—was now paid for by my clients.

I messed up plenty. I gambled on advertising that didn’t return. Trusted the wrong people with my reputation. Burned money and time learning new software and systems. Relationships frayed under the weight of risk. But the cost of not trying would have been worse: a slow death in the wrong career.

Through it all, I discovered the truth: pain can be a powerful teacher. The discomfort of retail pushed me toward photography. The strain of uncertainty pushed me to grow. The hunger of the Great Recession pushed me to adapt.

If you’re on the fence about pursuing your passion, jump. Talk to people who are already doing it. Save money. Invest in yourself. Be willing to learn. And please—don’t die with your song still in you. Cemeteries are already full of unwritten books, unsung songs, and unfulfilled dreams.

Your path doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to be yours.

Brian – Gratitudaholic. Storyteller. Light-seeker.