At some point in my life, years back, I was obsessed with the idea of defining myself through the things I do.

I’d look around, and watch pieces of that in everyone else but me. As in, every time I thought of someone, something always stood out about them. This person has a beautiful voice, they sing. This other person is into acting, it comes naturally to them. That person’s so obsessed with travel, they’re always planning their next destination. That other person sounds very intellectual, they’re really good at what they teach. I mean, everyone seemed to be really good at the things they do, and my mind used those things to sort of define them.

But then there was me. Always into different things, but never so fully into any of them. That ‘lack of uniqueness’ always made me doubtful. About my existence, my abilities. About everything.

It only really hit me that this no longer bothers me, when I received my birthday gift. (still not over it, so the posts will have to keep coming…)

A birthday gift that was entirely based on something that I do; something that people think of when they remember me. More precisely, a passion I’m now going after. And it just suddenly made sense.

All along, I had been trying to define myself by ‘choosing’ a passion of my own.

Yet I never really chose writing.

I’ve always loved writing, it’s true. But it’s never been such a loud passion until I started my own self-exploration journey. Until I got to know myself, without trying to define her. Until I decided to dig deep into things I’d been trying to turn a blind eye on for years. That’s when I started finding comfort in using my words as a medium to majorly express this new self that’s emerging, and all the new ideas that came along. And that’s when I started becoming so passionate about writing and creation. That I’m now receiving a gift based off exactly that. My passion.

On my 26th birthday, I finally grasped that I was never meant to ‘choose’ my passion, and that my passion’s never meant to define who I am for me. Instead, all what I am is that which drives me. And all that I use to express it, is where I’ll continue finding joy. Does this make any sense at all?