To check out the rest of this blog series, click here.
Vividly, I can recall, the various mornings I’d rise early, go to my notebook, and sit by the window. After about five or so minutes of staring out to the lake daydreaming, I would put my pen to the paper and write. I couldn’t tell you how long I would write for, because I’d get lost in my fantasies. Every time I write–even now–I forget all sense of time. An hour or so later, I’d be ten pages deep into my scribbling and ranting. Someone from my family would inform me it was time for breakfast and I’d leave my imaginary world, knowing I’d return to it shortly. That, then and even now, is one of my favorite times in the day: writing time.
I believe everyone grows up with one big dream of theirs tucked into their back pockets, sometimes hidden away from the world. For the longest time, I hid my aspiration of being a published author from people around me. The only people who really knew how much I loved my writing were my family, and maybe a few close friends. It was like a little secret only disclosed to the people closest to me. That has always been my dream: to write, share my stories, and enjoy copious amounts of time in my imaginary worlds.
But, upon coming to Taiwan, other dreams of mine were put on this pedestal and examined. I found myself analyzing my other desires and really getting to the bottom of why I wanted certain things, and more importantly, if I really wanted them at all. What I can tell you is my priorities and my goals, after spending time abroad in a completely new environment, have shifted.
When I came to this island, I thought I would live here, save some money, and then travel the world and work freelance. I wanted to be a hippie, live out of a backpack, and share my travels with the world in hopes that they would give me some monetary reward in return. Truthfully, as I came to discover, those were not my desires. Those were what some of the people around me wanted, and I came to believe I wanted.
Not knowing what I wanted, I dove myself into other people’s projects. I assisted them in their pursuits, still imagining in the back of my mind what I wanted. I tried to picture myself in their shoes, but always came up with this hollow feeling because I hadn’t found what I felt passionate about. Until, that is, I returned to my old habits, my old self, and some old connections of mine. Then I was reminded that while I had changed, perhaps what I really needed was there all along.
I’d left America knowing what I wanted more, but came to realize that the life I desired was within reach. I didn’t need all the grandiose items, houses, and lifestyle perks that I saw around me on social media. I didn’t need to make six figures a year to be happy, but I needed to find something I loved and felt passionate about. And so I did. I dove into my writing, started connecting with people, and my mood instantly lifted. It was like rain after a drought. The creative energy within me was surging, and even now on the worst days, I feel far more hope than I used to because I know, no matter what, my writing will always be there. It will always be there as a guiding light, because sometimes, the biggest dreams we can pursue are ones that never really left us.
