How I (Accidentally) Discovered My Purpose

The Guava Pie That Changed Everything

If you’ve ever been to Miami, you know that guava is more than just a fruit—it’s practically a lifestyle. Guava pastries. Guava smoothies. Guava-scented candles. You name it, someone here has found a way to guava-ify it. Growing up in Little Havana, I always thought of guava as just another backdrop to my Cuban-American childhood, like my abuela’s mismatched floral plates or Celia Cruz’s voice blasting through the kitchen speakers.

But one sticky July afternoon—an afternoon that smells like sunscreen and café con leche even just thinking about it now—that unassuming fruit became a metaphor for my life’s purpose.

Hear me out.

At the time, I was freelancing, trying to piece together a career in writing while nursing what I now fondly call my “quarter-life crisis.” You know those rom-com moments when the protagonist stumbles on her dream job, dream partner, and dream wardrobe—all within a 24-hour montage? Yeah, my life looked nothing like that. My days were more a mix of microwaving rice, questioning the career validity of short stories, and dodging my mother’s sly hints about law school (“It’s not too late, mija!”).

That’s when I got roped into making a pie for my cousin’s potluck. A guava pie, to be exact.

How a Pie Taught Me About Connection

I had no business baking that pie. I could barely make toast without burning it, which my brother kindly reminded me of during an especially humiliating FaceTime consultation. But family calling is family calling, and like every self-respecting Cuban girl, I hate showing up to a party empty-handed, even if my offering is a disaster. So I followed an old recipe I found in a crumpled notebook of my abuela’s, smearing guava paste with the concentration of a brain surgeon and swearing in both Spanish and English when the crust sank in the oven.

Fast-forward three hours, and there it was: a guava pie so careworn it practically begged for a sympathy vote. When I placed it on the potluck table, I wanted to slink into a corner before anyone could politely lie about how it tasted.

But something weird happened. That pie—ugly, imperfect, and almost-burnt—lit up the room. I watched as my tíos leaned into each other with conspiratorial grins, laughing about their childhood summers when guava trees were as plentiful as family gossip. My cousin’s friend from Kansas took a bite and declared, “I don’t even know what guava is, but this is life-changing.”

Suddenly the pie wasn’t just a pie—it was a bridge. It brought together old stories and new experiences, wrapped them up in flaky crust, and served them with a side of nostalgia. And standing there watching it all, I realized something big: I didn’t mess up my purpose by over-baking that pie. I had unknowingly discovered it.

Finding Meaning in Messy Places

Here’s the thing nobody tells you when you’re stressing over finding yourself—sometimes, your purpose isn’t some shiny golden trophy hiding at the end of a straight, paved road. It’s the thing you discover accidentally, in the mess.

Making that pie didn’t suddenly turn me into a baker (trust me, Paul Hollywood would’ve thrown it right into the trash), but it woke up something inside me: the power of storytelling as connection. Hearing my family’s memories spill out over a simple dessert made me realize I didn’t need to be writing Pulitzer-winning essays to make an impact. I could tell stories—mine, others’, and even ones inspired by things like guava pie—and create bonds that mattered.

Purpose doesn’t always look like a perfectly crafted 10-year plan. Sometimes, it’s more like guava: unexpected, sticky, and weirdly sweet when you embrace it.

Watch for the (Delicious) Detours

So, how can you start stumbling toward your own purpose without waiting for a cosmic guava-pie epiphany? Here are a few things I’ve learned from that summer:

  1. Try What Scares You (Even If You Might Fail)
    Do the thing you think you’re terrible at. Seriously. Whether it’s baking, joining a salsa class, or finally telling your crush you like them (por qué no?), lean into discomfort. Sometimes purpose lives on the other side of what feels impossible.

  2. Reconnect with Old Stories
    Think about the things you grew up with—food, music, traditions—and ask yourself how they shaped you. For me, guava wasn’t just a fruit; it became a symbol of my culture, something I’d unintentionally carried with me all along.

  3. Stop Chasing “Perfect”
    Your purpose doesn’t need to feel tidy or Insta-worthy. Let go of the pressure to have it all figured out (for now) and be open to learning from the detours.

  4. Listen to What Brings You Joy
    Purpose doesn’t have to feel dramatic or monumental—it can just be the thing that makes you lose track of time. Pay attention to what lights you up and follow it, even if it doesn’t make sense yet.

Full Circle Moments (& A Side of Guava)

Now, years later, every time I bite into guava—whether it’s in a flaky pastelito or a hastily-made smoothie—I think about that afternoon of chaos and clarity in my cousin’s kitchen. I think about how purpose doesn’t wait for your LinkedIn profile to be perfect or for you to schedule that TED Talk. It shows up quietly, unexpectedly, and often when you’re elbow-deep in something you thought wasn’t your thing.

For me, that thing is storytelling. Sharing my personal experiences—messy, heartfelt, and sometimes funny—not only deepens my connections with others but helps me be more honest with myself. So here’s to figuring it out, one guava-scented mess at a time.

And for the record, my pie game hasn’t exactly improved. But as it turns out, people like you best when you’re a little imperfect—just like a slightly over-baked dessert.