My dream job doesn't pay the bills. It makes me wonder whether I'm a selfish mom.

• I've been working at a job that I don't like just to pay the bills.
• I decided to quit and follow my dream of being an author, which doesn't bring much money.

I never imagined I'd be 34 and working a low-level job I don't love for the sake of my family's financial security.

While I don't think there's anything wrong with working for a paycheck, I have learned it's not for me. My job at a climbing gym is easy and safe, but if I'm being honest, it's slowly killing me. That's why I recently decided to give myself a deadline to quit my job so I can pursue my career as an author.

I love writing. It lights me up. It's the one thing I know I'm good at and the one thing I know I can wholeheartedly dedicate my life to without regret. It gives me that soul-deep satisfaction experienced only when you follow your dreams. Pursuing your passion is what life's all about, right?

The only thing is, writing doesn't always pay the bills.

I've done it before

While part of me is relieved to be quitting a job that feels like death by a thousand paper cuts, it scares me deeply because I know how risky this choice is. I've been a full-time writer before, and I know the stressful roller coaster of income insecurity that comes with it. Yes, I can work hard and likely make ends meet, but there's never any real guarantee of success. Short of getting my book under Oprah's nose, my whole career is likely to be a ride that makes my stomach drop on the regular.

It would be one thing if my decision affected only me, but this choice has repercussions for the people I share my life with. This is a choice that takes away the stability of my family's finances, and I can't pretend otherwise.

Am I selfish?

Ever since telling my husband I'm quitting my day job, I've wondered whether I'm being selfish by following my dreams. Even though he's shown nothing but support for my new plan, there's that voice in the back of my head that tells me I'm doing him dirty.

Doing the work that lights up my soul sounds great, but is it really worth the risk when there are other people counting on my income? We have three kids, a mortgage, and responsibilities. How much is my happiness worth?

I know this choice will put the weight of being the "breadwinner" onto my husband's shoulders. Even worse, I know that the financial stress will make me tetchy and force me to be frugal. It's entirely possible that my kids might not be able to do as many extracurricular activities. Our family-vacation budget will become all but dry. Can I really ask everyone else to sacrifice for my dreams and happiness?

It's so incredibly difficult to overcome the hurdle of feeling selfish for pursuing fulfillment when I know it will influence other people in my life, especially my husband and kids. I keep waffling, wondering whether I can hit the dollar amount that I feel will make the transition "worth it" for me. But assuming I can't completely replace or exceed my current income, I worry that the guilt of feeling selfish will haunt me. It all comes back to that essential question: How much is my happiness worth?

I was always told to set my dreams aside to be a good wife and mom

It's hard to put a value on my own happiness, and I find myself conditioned to cast it aside in favor of serving others. I was raised in a society that told me that my needs should matter less than the comfort of those around me — that I was supposed to be the one to sacrifice, to set aside my dreams, to be a good wife and mother. That's why claiming a career that lights me up feels so deeply transgressive. Because I can't pretend that I'm doing it for anyone but myself.

Ultimately, I have to believe that I'm worth betting on and that living a life of fulfillment is worth the cost of discomfort: not because I believe I will become wildly successful and the bet will pay off but because my happiness is worth more than the relative security of a job that's making me miserable. I know that my unhappiness is costing us, costing me, more than I'm willing to pay.

So I'm choosing to believe in myself as much as my husband believes in me, as selfish as it may feel at the moment. In the end, I know that honoring my needs is how I want to show up in the world, for my kids, for my husband — but most importantly, for me.