Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about who I am—and why I’m always chasing new things.
Sometimes it feels like my whole life is a series of new beginnings.
I’ve always been the kind of person who loves learning.
Workshops, courses, new hobbies… if something sparks my interest, I want to dive in.
There was a time I thought I’d move to Germany and even try signed up for an Ausbildung program and enroll the Deutsch language course and I managed to reach A2 level.
Eventually, I realized it wasn’t quite right for my age.
I’m still on Duolingo every day, learning German and start over French —not because I have to, but because it makes me happy.
Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m too restless for my own good.
I used to garden, but stopped when we had to fix up our lawn.
I once taught fashion design and sewing classes, but life shifted, and now I’m working full-time.
The one thing I do consistently, my husband teases, is cook—which, okay, is partly because we have to eat. I mean, it is survival skill right?
But I’ve come to love it, especially baking. There’s something soothing about folding butter into flour or peeking into the oven to see a cake rising.
Outside the kitchen, tennis has my heart. I’m nowhere near professional, but there’s something about the rhythm of a good rally, the sound of the ball hitting the racket, that makes me feel completely alive.
Over the years, I’ve dipped my toes into so many things—pottery, perfume making, baking, drawing and painting, reading, writing. Each of them felt like a tiny adventure. But sometimes, I look back and wonder if all my dabbling makes me seem inconsistent.
And I’ll admit, it hurt a bit when my husband said I’m not consistent, as if all these different pieces of me don’t really count for much.
His words have stuck with me longer than I’d like to admit, making me question whether my curiosity is a flaw instead of a gift.
But deep down, I don’t think it’s a waste at all. Pottery course taught me patience and how beautiful imperfection can be. Perfume making showed me how powerful small details are. Baking has taught me resilience—because not every cake comes out perfect on the first try. Drawing and painting let me express things that words can’t always capture. Reading opens up whole new worlds, and writing helps me figure out my own.
Even with all that, I sometimes feel like I’m not “somebody.” Like everyone else has their titles, achievements, and impressive LinkedIn profiles, while I’m floating between hobbies and phases. Just the other day, I found some friends on internet and felt that familiar pang of comparison. Why can’t I be one of those people?
Maybe because I meant to be this person instead?
Or maybe the real answer is:
I could be one of those people—but I choose to be me and that’s worth just as much.
Maybe my path isn’t a straight line—but it’s mine. And I’m excited to see where it leads next.
- Curiosity didn’t really kill the cat, satisfaction brought it back.
