Coming Home
I was always a quiet kid. The phrase, “You’re so shy,” passed me by too many times to count. I constantly wondered if I had anything to contribute. If everyone was saying how quiet I am, maybe that’s all I was in the end. Deep down I knew I had so much to say. So many times I found myself so full of thoughts that I ended up just being quiet. I didn’t think what I had to say brought much value to the world, so I kept my mouth shut for a long time.
Creativity found me at a young age. Finally, pieces of myself started to be released into the world. Parts of myself I didn’t know were there had a place to be expressed and seen. When we were told to write poetry for school, it felt like I was coming alive. Assigned to write about my feelings and inner thoughts? It couldn’t get any better than this.
I started preferring a pen and paper to people. Soon enough a paintbrush was a common tool I used which traded off with a camera quite often. Over the years I’ve explored and experimented with countless art mediums. With every new art piece, a new part of myself emerges. Creativity has become a close friend of mine. Always asking me what part of myself I want to share about today. Always challenging me to connect to the most authentic version of myself. That’s the thing about creativity—it demands authentic connection.
When I started to connect to myself through creativity, I began to see myself unravel. I was connecting to a version of myself I didn’t know before. I was no longer the shy young girl, but a girl who loved adventure and people and storytelling. I started to see that I had so much to share. I was passionate about justice and women’s representation and mental health. Painting became an avenue of self-reflection and honesty. Writing became a lifeline when I didn’t know how to give my internal world a voice. Photography was something that tied me to the strangers across from me and showed me that we’re all figuring out this life together. Videography became a form of storytelling and inviting others into who I was.
When I took my first trip abroad, I fell in love with traveling. Everything I imagined it to be, it was. It was romantic and picturesque and shocking and inspiring all at once. Not only that, but it continued this journey of connecting to myself. It actually challenged me more than creativity ever did. I thought I knew who I was, but when I started going to new places it opened up so much more of my internal world.
Every time I travel, I basically question everything. I wonder who I am in this new environment surrounded by unfamiliar people and places. I question what I contribute to this new place and where I belong in this setting. I ponder how other strangers perceive me and if I’m becoming who I want to be or who they want me to be. Once again, I struggle to express who I am and wonder if I have anything to say in this new place. What I’m saying is, I question my whole life. After going to more than a handful of countries, I’m starting to see it’s just a normal part of traveling.
Even though this is all incredibly overwhelming, it makes me feel more alive than ever. I don’t always find the answers to these questions, but it does cause me to connect to myself. Since traveling, I’ve seen myself overcome really hard situations–like navigating a foreign country’s railway system. When you grow up in a small town, that’s a hard job. I’ve also seen myself open up to strangers and find ways to connect to people even if we have little in common. I’ve seen how much I love hearing people’s stories. I’ve started to figure out what I actually want without someone else telling me what I should do. I’ve seen that I’m more capable and strong and passionate than I ever thought.
Looking back, I see that traveling and creating are such vital parts of my life. Without these things, I wouldn’t be the same person. I don’t think I’d believe in myself as much as I do now. I’d probably still be that quiet girl wondering if she had anything to share with the world around her.
Every time I create something new or take a photo, I feel like I get a new glimpse into who I am. When I step foot into a new country and spend a few days there, I slowly uncover new parts of myself. I like to think of our hearts as a home. We have opportunities to walk through doors and turn on lights. We can build onto this house and tear down. We can invite others in or keep some out. And over time, we get to know this house pretty well.
Through experiencing other cultures and being involved in the arts, I’m lucky enough to have had endless opportunities to get to know this house of mine. It’s become quite comfortable here for me and I’m proud of that fact. If you would’ve asked me years ago, I don’t think I would’ve felt the same way. Many doors would still be closed and the house would be quite small. I wouldn’t have liked all the rooms I saw. I don’t think I would’ve thought the house was all that special, but it’s different now. I’m beginning to walk into more rooms and turn on more lights. I’m starting to wander around more often and consider building on or taking off certain rooms. I’m starting to like it more. This house will continue to change, evolve, and light up. More doors will open and some may stay shut for a while. But it’s my house and I’m starting to see it as a home. I’m coming home to myself.
