How I Discovered My Passion and Let It Change Everything

1. Love at First Write

Let me take you back to the sweltering streets of Miami, where kids ran after guayaberas-wearing ice cream vendors, and my house smelled perpetually of café cubano and fried plantains. My grandparents, who lived with us after fleeing Cuba, filled our tiny home with endless stories: tales of love they swore could defy revolutions, heartbreaks they dramatized like telenovelas, and the meaning they found in moments that seemed, to the rest of us, mundane.

What I didn’t know at 12 years old—aside from the fact that my gel-heavy middle part hairstyle would not age well—was that these stories would become my first love. My abuela’s sharp descriptions of La Habana; my abuelo describing the way he met my grandmother as though his life had truly started the second their eyes met; my mom’s retelling of how she survived her first weeks in the U.S. with nothing but hope and cheap diner biscuits. These stories weren’t just entertainment. To me, they were lifelines—not just to my family or culture, but to something bigger.

At some point, I picked up a pen, trying to capture these stories myself. And I was hooked faster than someone getting ghosted after saying, “U up?” an hour too late. It was messy love at first write: not perfect, not polished, but deeply personal.

2. Writing Isn’t Sexy... At First

Let me keep it real with you—writing didn’t always feel glamorous or fulfilling in its early years, particularly during my first breakup with ambition as a journalist. You know that moment in a romantic comedy where the characters realize they’re not “the one” for each other? Yeah, that was me and hard news. I was reporting on immigration and cultural displacement, topics I cared about deeply but struggled to fit into three neutral lines sandwiched between deadlines.

It felt like dating someone who checked all the boxes on paper but didn’t make my soul light up. You ever been in that kind of relationship? Where you’re staring at them across a table, wondering, “Why does this connection feel like cold oatmeal?” That’s what my professional life felt like. Competent, but not passionate.

The romantic twist in my own story? Fiction. I'd always written short stories and essays on the side, trying to process the love, identity, and complexities of growing up between two worlds. But admitting, this is what I really want to do? That felt indulgent. It took me years—and a nasty spiral of job burnout—to realize I needed to lean into what truly made me feel alive.

3. Finding Your Passion Is Like Dating a Complicated Artist

When I got serious about pursuing creative writing, it felt a little like dating someone too artsy for their own good: exhilarating, confusing, mildly intimidating, and occasionally infuriating. (Think Timothée Chalamet in Call Me By Your Name, but less absinthe and more crying over rejection emails.)

I sat down one day and wrote a story about my parents awkwardly attempting to assimilate into suburban America, specifically during one disastrous Thanksgiving where turkey and arroz con frijoles collided on the same table. It was a chaos I knew well. Publishing that piece gave me butterflies that would put any first date to shame.

Here’s the thing: if passion were a person, they wouldn’t really be easygoing. They’d demand sacrifices. They’d make you question everything. My writing wasn’t a meet-cute; it was a relationship that required putting myself out there, risking embarrassment, and sometimes just writing bad pages. But I stayed committed.

4. Lessons Learned (and How You Can Apply Them)

So what does this story about me listening to my abuela’s childhood tales and figuring out my professional life have to do with you? Whether you’re flirting with the idea of chasing your passion or warming up to the commitment, here’s what I’ve learned:

  • 1. Your First Love Isn’t Always “the One”:
    Sometimes what excites you early on (relationships, careers, hobbies) evolves. And that’s okay. What matters is maintaining curiosity—and staying open to pivots when it feels off.

  • 2. Listen to the “Whisper”:
    Passion often starts as a quiet little voice that says, “Don’t you love this?” It’s subtle, like a really good first date. Don’t ignore it. Nurture it.

  • 3. Don’t Wait for Perfection:
    If I’d waited for my pieces to be “good enough,” I’d still be rewriting the same paragraph for the tenth time. Whatever your spark might be—art, writing, cooking, CrossFit (and hey, I don’t judge)—let yourself start badly. Progress is way sexier than perfection.

  • 4. Rejection Will Happen, and It’s Cool:
    I’ve been turned down by publishers, editors, and, on some occasions, Tinder matches. None of it killed me. In fact, after enough “no’s,” I started investing smarter energy into better opportunities. Learn from the roadblocks instead of fearing them—they’re just part of the process.

5. The Romance of Sticking It Out

Like any great love, my passion for storytelling has tested me, inspired me, and made me deeply uncomfortable. It’s made me laugh out loud (like when I accidentally submitted a draft riddled with Spanglish inside jokes to a very Midwestern literary magazine) and cry over setbacks.

But although it’s a relationship I’ve had my entire life, my passion continues to evolve—just as all love does. Lately, I’ve been more committed to helping others tell their own stories, whether through workshops or just hyping up a friend who's scared to take that leap of faith into the unknown.

And you know what? That’s the magic of finding your "thing"—your purpose or passion or even just your side hustle du jour. It gives you back as much as you pour into it. And, in the best moments, you’ll find that it changes more than your routine: it’ll connect you back to yourself, your roots, and maybe even to the people around you.

So go ahead. Write the bad poems. Cook the meh meals. Try the uncomfortable class. It might not be love at first sight, but who knows—it just might end up being the relationship of your dreams.