Make Your Energy and Time Expensive

“You should think of your energy as if it’s expensive, as if it’s like a luxury item. Not everyone can afford it.” -Taylor Swift

”The day after Christmas, I drove two hours to Reelfoot Lake by myself. No agenda. No helping. No fixing. Bad weather. Empty roads. Long drives around the lake. I photographed. I ate at local restaurants. I slept.

And in that quiet, the truth surfaced: I wasn’t unmotivated. I wasn’t behind. I was exhausted and depleted. My well was dry.

I’d been running on empty for months. Work that mattered to me had quietly expanded into constant responsibility, projects, decisions, and problem-solving that never seemed to end. At the same time, I was trying to make other people’s lives easier and smoother, often at the expense of my own. Add in this newsletter, the holidays, the normal weight of December, and I’d given until there was nothing left.

Here’s the thing many of us miss: depleted people don’t need resolutions. They need restoration.

A few days later, while talking with a close friend about how drained I felt, she shared something Taylor Swift once said. Not being a Swiftie, I was surprised myself, too. Swift talked about treating her energy like something expensive—a luxury item. Not everyone can afford access to it.

That line landed because it named what many women learn over a lifetime: giving endlessly doesn’t make you generous. It makes you empty. And energy, like time, is not unlimited.

I stopped making resolutions years ago. Resolutions are about fixing and forcing oneself to become someone else. I don’t want a better version of myself. I want a truer one.

What I’m focusing on instead is purpose.

At this stage of life, purpose isn’t about reinvention or proving relevance. It’s about choosing what stays and letting go of what quietly drains us. It’s about asking a more useful question: does this give energy back, or does it simply take?

For me, purpose looks like this newsletter. My photography. Creative work that feeds my soul. And an honest reckoning with what I’ve neglected. I haven’t painted in nearly a year, not because I don’t love it, but because I stopped making time for what restores me.

This year, I’m making two simple lists. Not rules. Permissions.

My let-go list: Over-explaining. Fixing what isn’t mine, carrying other people’s urgency, giving from the empty, and feeling guilty for resting and apologizing for saying no.

Feeds My Soul list: Creative time. Solitude. Rest without justification. Fewer obligations. Strong boundaries around my energy and time. Solitude. Rest without justification. Fewer obligations. Strong boundaries around my energy and time. Solitude. Rest without justification. Fewer obligations. Strong boundaries around my energy and time.

Your lists will look different. They should. But simply naming what drains you and what restores you may be enough for January.

This isn’t about becoming self-centered. It’s about becoming intentional. If time is finite, and it is, then purpose isn’t something we chase. It’s what’s left when we stop carrying what depletes us.

On New Year’s Day, I posted that I was unavailable until Monday. Then I took down Christmas, organized my home, cooked for myself, and took a deep breath. No explanations. No guilt.

That’s my choice for 2026: to make my energy and time expensive, and to invest them where they actually return joy, clarity, and peace.

If your well feels dry, you’re not failing. You’re just done giving from an empty place.