“How I Fell in Love with My Passion”

Have you ever tried describing your passion to someone only to have them look at you like you’re trying to explain the plot of Tenet after two glasses of wine? That’s how I used to feel about my love for storytelling—a passion so ingrained in me, yet so hard to put into words. But like the best relationships, it has a beginning, a middle, and hopefully, no rushed Christopher Nolan-esque ending. Let me tell you how, in a serendipitous (and occasionally messy) journey, I fell head over heels for my craft.

Chapter One: The Café Chronicles

Growing up in Kitsilano, my family’s café was more than just a place with the smell of espresso permanently soaked into the walls—it was a stage for human connection. Picture this: my mom, the queen of perfect foam art, made cappuccinos for architects sketching blueprints on napkins, while my dad swapped pleasantries with artists planning their next gallery debut. The café wasn’t just about coffee; it was a mosaic of stories.

And then there was me. I spent weekends perched at the back corner table, pretending to do my math homework but secretly eavesdropping on whispered conversations. Breakups over chai lattes. Grandparent tales shared over flat whites. Meet-cutes so perfect they could’ve been scripted by Nora Ephron. Growing up surrounded by these snippets of life planted the first seeds of my passion for storytelling.

For every interaction I overheard, my mind rewrote endings or imagined backstories. The café wasn’t just a business; it was where I first learned connection isn’t built in silence but in sharing who we are. That realization still drives me in everything I write today—our threads of humanity are what bind us.

Chapter Two: Postcards from Melbourne

Fast forward to my university exchange in Melbourne, where I thought I’d become a worldly version of myself who could pronounce "gnocchi" right the first time. (Spoiler: I could not.) What I did discover in that artsy, sunlit city was how traveling cracks you open in the best way. Think of it like a rom-com road trip montage: strangers become muses, unknown streets turn into plotlines, and homesickness teaches you what you miss most.

Melbourne gave me the courage to approach writing like I approached a crowded Aussie brunch café—you show up, even if you’re early and awkward, and hope someone lets you sit at their table. I filled notebooks with stories inspired by the locals’ quirky charm, the aroma of eucalyptus in the air, and the jaw-dropping sunsets over St. Kilda Beach. Writing became my constant. It was no longer just something I dabbled in; it became how I made sense of where I was—and who I was.

Chapter Three: Turning Pain into Prose

If falling in love with storytelling found its roots in cozy café moments and travel adventures, then heartbreak gave it its fuel. Isn’t it funny how breakups turn regular people into part-time poets? After a particularly crushing end to a whirlwind romance (the kind where you bond over shared playlists and suddenly think you’re soulmates because you both like Radiohead), I turned to my journal for solace.

There’s something embarrassingly cathartic about scrawling out raw feelings in ink or hunched over your laptop at 2 a.m., pouring tears onto the keyboard. The breakup taught me how writing could hold a mirror to my pain while helping me let it go. Sure, I’d like to say my early drafts were lyrical and insightful, but in truth, they were much like my post-breakup dating decisions: messy, all over the place, and too reliant on metaphors.

Still, something shifted. I learned that the parts of us that feel too big—too raw, scary, vulnerable—become more bearable when we give them voice. And that’s where my passion grew stronger—not just in moments of joy or creativity but in moments of healing.

Chapter Four: Why It Matters Today

They say the things we’re most passionate about reveal who we are when no one’s looking—and for me, that’s the heart of it. Writing isn’t just something I do to pay the bills or see my byline on a webpage; it’s how I connect with the world. Whether I’m sketching characters inspired by my Vancouver surroundings or crafting articles on the nuances of human connection (hi, you’re reading one right now), storytelling remains my way of asking, “Do you feel this, too?”

A good story does that. It makes us feel seen and understood in the way a perfect first date does—the kind where conversation flows so effortlessly that you barely notice time passing. It makes us laugh, cry, and find beauty in the mundane. My passion for storytelling isn’t just about weaving interesting sentences; it’s about creating moments for people to say, “Wow, me too.”

How to Fall in Love with Your Passion

If my love story with storytelling teaches anything, it’s that passion doesn’t arrive fully formed on your doorstep like an Amazon package. It’s built slowly, shaped by curiosity, and honed by life’s ups and downs. Here’s what I’ve learned along the way:

  • Follow Your Curiosity: My nosy café eavesdropping wasn’t just introversion—it was the start of noticing the magic in everyday moments. Pay attention to what lights you up; curiosity is the first breadcrumb on the trail.

  • Get Comfortable with Cringe: Whether it’s bad poetry in your diary or early attempts at painting, your first try probably won’t be amazing. That’s okay. Start anyway. You wouldn’t judge Tinder because the first match wasn’t “the one,” right?

  • Let Your Passion Show Up for You: When life takes a turn (breakups, job shifts, global pandemics), turn to what you love to process it all. Passions are patient—they’ll wait for you and give you strength when you need it most.

  • Find Your People: Just as each latte drinker in my parents’ café added to its charm, your passion thrives when surrounded by kindred spirits. Join a book club, take that photography workshop, or attend that open mic night. Passion can flourish in community.

Passion is a Love Language

The thing about passions is they don't just enrich your life—they reveal your truest self. Writing has taught me to see the beauty in the overlooked, to embrace vulnerability, and to celebrate the connections that make us human. Much like the best relationships, it asks for patience, demands growth, but offers an unparalleled reward: truth.

Your passion is out there waiting to fall in love with you, too. Will it be a slow burn or love at first sight? That’s your story to tell. My advice: stay curious, stay open, and remember—building a connection with yourself through what you love is the most rewarding romance of all.