Growing up I hated letting my parents in on decision making.
LOL as I’m writing this I still haven’t told my parents--whom I am living with right now--that I’m leaving the country in October (in 29 days). Some habits never die.
But I guess any youth (to sound proper lol) would hate parental disclosure, now looking back. However, maybe not for the same reason?
I hated knowing that anyone else knew my decisions and the reason I was making them. Call it the allure of the human ego, or the thrill of a mystic, but I matured as an addict of it all.
Between picking talents and obsessions as a kindergartener, to travel ventures and hobbies as a college student--once someone caught on, it was time to move on. At first I judged myself quite harshly for being afraid of visibility and understanding, but then I got a therapist! Quite the Gen Z, child-of-trauma move, I know, but even the act in itself (being the encouraged and expected move) was monumental for me at the time. Not because I was afraid to seek help or other perspectives, but because I never wanted someone to see the conclusion before I did; or else what was my purpose in realizing it?
I don’t know what you’re thinking of that, but I imagine objectively that’s kind of strange.
Anyways, what I came to learn from my therapist was: I’m not afraid of feeling visible--I’m afraid of not fulfilling my purpose by encouraging it enough.
Rewind 3 days old Martin, posted for adoption, and immediately gaining a loving family with every intention of giving me a fantastic life. Going home with them in a shiny new baby carrier, to a perfect suburban home with an airline pilot father and elementary school teacher mother. The story seems idealistic at best. I was visible...whether I wanted it or not.
However as each life year aged, I realized increasingly that I was only getting as far as I was because someone chose to see me from the beginning.
Someone chose.
To
see
me.
At first I reacted in an adoption-appropriate way of pursuing perfection to prove myself choose-able. Which I kind of succeeded at if you reference my GPA, ACT, and extracurriculars: 12 years of formal piano training with focus on Chopin (awards at annual competition), Honor-Roll, Honor Society, 4.0, 131 IQ, acceptance to a Middle School for the Arts for drawing/painting, Academic Writing Tutor, graduating high school early and self-enrolling in community college classes for ‘enrichment,’ 800+ hours of community service...jesus christ.
It was exhausting, and never filled that cup of purpose, so I started journaling in angst.
It started simple, where all journals should: "I’m in love. The leaves are shaking with change. Sunrises draw me in. Social Media is a trap.”
It’s all quite humorous now, but it’s where every good path to self-realization should begin.
<insert promotion for journaling here>
But then, it grew.
(Enter financial support from a full-time restaurant job)
I vividly remember watching the Alexis Ren videos of Bali and Hawaii and wishing I was there, and writing in my phone notes how I would go on a ‘dream vacation’ to Tahiti. It felt oddly off, but it was what everyone seemed to want, right? I can’t even describe it, but it felt so far in left field and although it trended--I couldn’t bring myself to ever book the trip. Why? So uncharacteristic for me! I was so frustrated because “think of the social media clout! Think of the #travelinspo! Think of the tropical fruit platters and string bikinis!” Ugh!
Ultimately:
It felt respectively seen.
And not in a ‘basic’ or overexposed way--I'd still love to go! It just felt like people were respectively aware of the beauty, culture, and life that those places embodied. And simply, I was excited for that realization. I only wanted to go for leisure...& to also appreciate it in an exploration kind of way.
But then I began to notice how people flocked to those places because of that new awareness, where before, the benefit would never have been allotted. I vividly remember the day that I took angrily to my journal and scratched across a page that "modern travel culture would ruin the world." An hour later, with green tea brewed and sipped, I 100% thought that I moved on with my life. Rant done.
But:
I began to wonder,
began to wander,
& began to wake up.
FASTFORWARD--I stared at my bedroom ceiling late june of 2020, in a worldwide quarantine, and came to the conclusion that the only reason I was where I was in life, was because someone chose to truly see me--so I now owed the world the same. That was bottom-line it.
My purpose wasn't to become Steve Jobs, or to own a successful Etsy shop making abstract art, or to be Indy Blue's BFF (...devastatingly). My purpose was to be a harbinger. And not for the glory of self, but for the glory of understanding, empathy, and visibility.
The next week I booked a trip to mainland alaska...to drive through it. At the time, by myself too. Because who thinks of Alaska for summer holiday? 40% of the retired, American community? (no offense at all...but come on.) However, my best friend booked the trip with me 1 hour after I told her I bought plane tickets, literally without question, and you know what? We went to Alaska! We drove a shitty RV, we took bathroom breaks on the interstate roadside, and showered every 3 days. & we saw wonders--a local salmon run in the stream next to a campsite, hiked a wilderness that most cruise lines would deem 'eh passable,' and befriended families along the way. We told our Gen-Z friends. We shared our itinerary countless times. We smiled. We encouraged. We lived.
& we got the texts:
“Ur in Alaska?”
“Yeah!!!”
“Oh, why”
Why not?
And it’s been that way since--with backwoods Montana, Paracas Peru, New Bern NC…
Why. Not.
If someone gave me visibility when I could barely prove myself worthy of it, if my purpose isn’t to pass that visibility on to the rest of the world--egg on my face I guess.
I want people to go, I want people to see, I want people to listen, I want people to feel. To experience. Get over the gatekeeping and #tagresponsibly (pacific northwest USA I’m looking at you.) It’s planet earth.
She deserves your eye contact.
So there you have it. That’s the very long sob story & explanation as to why O.Y? came to be.
Which is why you’re here! I hope?
Idk, I can’t promise smooth sailing, but I can promise a wacky ride full of laughs, trial & error, and life. And a ride of joining in on the journey with open hands & hearts.
Because the world is more than social media.
Because the world is imperfect.
Because the world deserves visibility.
Because the world, is why.
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