New artists tend to swing to one or the other extreme:
On one extreme, some artists consider the idea of "learning art" to be pretentious and controlling. "Why should someone else get to tell me what good or bad art is!? Why can't I just do whatever I wan't !?" Fearing conformity, they avoid all forms of study, only to artificially restrict their own expression... They choose to conform to the permanent limitations of a beginner, instead of the temporary limitations of a lesson that would expand their toolbox.
At the other extreme, some artists cling desperately to "the rules" and struggle to take any kind of initiative in choosing what they themselves want to make. By religiously following the step-by-step demonstrations they are presented with long after their relevance has waned, they fail to read between the lines, and ultimately miss the point of the lessons they're taking. Instead of gaining tools to inspire them or check their work, they gain shackles that burn them out and leave them with an identity crisis.
With that in mind, what exactly is the point of learning art? What is that sweet spot we're trying to aim for?
We want to get knowledgeable and skilled enough that we can achieve the things that interest us comfortably.
It shouldn't burn us out or take a century to create something we want to create. It should feel satisfying to do. And it should achieve the intended goal that we set out to achieve, whether that be to elicit a certain emotional response, make money, communicate an idea or story, be seen as a quality gift etc.
If you can already do that -- if you are fully satisfied with your process, outcome, and reception -- you don't "need" to study further.
(Although I recommend learning advanced art skills anyway for cognitive health reasons! It's a good hobby to keep us sharp into our later years.)
Some of us are never fully satisfied. We want to push it. We want to make a little more a little faster. We want to capture that one weird feeling that's hard to explain. We want to communicate a grand thesis that's been tormenting us for decades. So we continue our studies. On and on.
In doing so, we collect more tools for our (metaphorical) toolbox. There are tools we train with periodically to make our minds or bodies stronger. There are tools we use to categorize other tools and make sense of the world around us. There are tools we use directly in our artmaking process and swap out based on our mood or needs.
We realize that some tools suit us and some don't. The ones that don't suit us at all get thrown in the rust bucket at the dusty corners of our mind's deepest recesses, which we only dig through in an emergency. The ones that aren't our favorite but have their uses go in the bottom level of the toolbox mixed with the other so-sos. And the ones we keep reaching for are nicely organized on top where we can get to them.
That's all we're doing. Collecting and using the tools needed to make the things we want to make in peace.
You're not trying to become another artist. You're not trying create some objectively superior art style the Gods of Art have determined you must conform to. You're not being given some strict system that must be followed as if held at gunpoint. You still make your own decisions about when and why and how you want to employ those tools at the end of the day.
Your art is your own. Studying doesn't change that.