I remember driving back to college in my 1998 Ford Explorer Sport. I loved that hand-me-down car — bright, fire-engine red and full of life. It fit my personality perfectly: petite for an SUV, but strong, with all the right curves and a big personality.
I was driving from my hometown of Ocean City, Maryland, back to St. John’s University in Queens, New York, where I was a freshman biology major. I remember that trip distinctly because it became a defining moment in my life — the first time I realized I had no fucking clue who I was or what I actually cared about.
Somewhere along Route 13, I was listening to 93.5 The Beach, my go-to rock station, when the signal started to fade into static. I flipped through stations until I landed on one that came through clearly. To my surprise, it was country music — a genre I had sworn to loathe on principle. I was a “badass chick,” after all, who only listened to The Used, Nirvana, Atreyu, Bullet for My Valentine — anything angsty, raw, and loud.
But the longer I listened, the more I caught myself enjoying it. The songs were light. Upbeat. Happy. And that’s when it hit me — I couldn’t tell what I genuinely liked versus what I’d been told to like. Or worse, what I’d chosen to like simply to be rebellious. It was a mind-blowing realization. After some serious reflection, I realized the only thing I knew for sure that made me happy was singing in the car.
That moment became the foundation of the woman I am today.
I had always been introspective — forced to grow up quickly through experiences that made me question the world around me. But it wasn’t until that car ride that I realized my entire belief system wasn’t my own. Everything I wanted, everything I thought I knew — was someone else’s construct that I’d been instructed to foster. While I’m not saying those values or pursuits weren’t good for me, the truth was this: I had only pursued them because I was told to.
So, I started from scratch.
I knew I liked singing in the car. That was my baseline. From there, I began the ongoing adventure of discovering who I really am — piece by piece, experience by experience. My approach? Eliminate what I don’t like, cherish what I do, and follow resonance wherever I find it.
As far as finding my passion? I’m still confidently guessing, pursuing new courses, and waiting for that deep reverberation — that sense of this is it.
My echolocation might be off, but I remain the eternal optimist. I know, one day, it will find me.
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