I saw a short video recently about scarcity mindset, and I was surprised to learn that it was a major theme running through many areas of my life.

Like many of us, I grew up in relative austerity with a controlling parent. The way this early programming has affected my attitudes toward physical resources is obvious. (This girl can feed a family on an absolute shoestring!) But I had no idea that my emotional landscape and my art were being affected as well.

And now that I think about it, I see the same patterns in many of the frustrations expressed by clayers. Here are a few challenges you might not realize are part of a scarcity mindset from childhood.

• Reluctance to Open New Materials – Have you ever just stared at your new paints or Pan Pastels and not wanted to open them? It’s really silly when you think about it. They’re meant to be used. And if you use them up, buy more!
• Stockpiling – The concern that you might not be able to buy or obtain the materials you want when you want them might lead to having way too much on hand. This ties up resources and can even lead to waste if things go bad with time (as with paints).
• Picking the Right Project – This kind of analysis paralysis can lead to having a lot of Pinterest boards and images saved. But then, when you’re ready to create, nothing feels like the “right one.”
• Saving Special Items – This is when you have a special cane, inclusion, or material and wait for the “right” project, so you never get around to using it, and it lies in a drawer forever.
• Waste – We often think we MUST finish everything, even if it’s gone awry, because waste is seen as a moral failing. It’s okay to get rid of things that no longer serve you.
• Asking for Help – You might feel there is a limited amount of goodwill, patience, or permission, and you want to save it for the “right” question. Which means you don’t benefit from the help earlier. And you don’t allow others to help you (which is often helpful for them!)
• Ideas – If you believe ideas are scarce, you grip them tightly, refusing to execute them until conditions are perfect. And a hoarded idea doesn’t reproduce. It doesn’t lead anywhere. It sits there, feeling increasingly precious and fragile, as you become more attached to it and more terrified of wasting it.
• Knowledge Hoarding – This has become less common, but some people feel they worked very hard to learn something and worry that sharing it with others will somehow diminish its value.
• Undercharging – You’d think scarcity would do the opposite and drive artists to overcharge. However, artists often undercharge because they fear no one will pay more. Or they give away too much for free, hoping to earn goodwill that will eventually convert to sales, depleting themselves in the process.
• Time Scarcity – Artists often approach their studio time with a desperate, pressured energy. “I only have two hours, I have to make something good.” This pressure paradoxically kills the exploratory play that leads to breakthrough work. Every session becomes high-stakes, which makes experimentation feel too risky. You can’t afford to “waste” time on something that might not work out, so you stick with safe, proven approaches. The work stagnates.
• Self-worth Scarcity – This might be the root of all of it. The belief that there’s a limited amount of “legitimacy” or “real artist” status available, and it’s all too easy to dismiss the validity of what you’re doing.

The frustrating thing about scarcity mindset is that it masquerades as virtue. Stockpiling looks like prudence. Undercharging looks like humility. Waiting for the right project looks like having standards. And when these patterns got laid down in childhood, they don’t feel like patterns. They feel like reality. Of course, you save the good stuff. And asking for too much would be selfish.

There’s no quick fix here. I’m not going to tell you to “think abundant thoughts” and watch your creative blocks dissolve. But naming it helps. Being aware of the patterns will help you break them. Now, when I catch myself saving something for later, I ask whether “later” is a real plan or just my way of deflecting an unspoken fear. When I feel pressure to make my limited studio time “count,” I remind myself that play is not waste.

You can’t unlearn this stuff overnight. But you can start noticing when scarcity is running the show, and then make a different choice.

NOTE: This was originally posted in the Ginger’s Musings section of Blue Bottle Insiders. If you find that essays like this strike a chord for you, consider joining us in Insiders.