Don’t mind the mess, as I have spent decades being careful…

Meet Cynthia

b. 1994, Minnesota, United States

I believe that for someone to truly connect to your art, an artist has to be willing to be vulnerable.

What has formed me into the artist I am today?

I was a creative, wild, curious kid who loved writing short stories, making handmade collages, doodling turtles everywhere, as well as directing and writing in my own productions.

Like many children, I remember dreaming of being an astronaut because whenever I looked at the night sky, I felt awe.  I wanted to see the universe, but once I vocalized that dream, a loved one told me my eyes weren’t good enough. Despite NASA never administering me an eye exam, I shrugged in reluctance, and figured they knew best. I probably couldn't have handled the heights anyway, I told myself for years to come.

Then, for many years, I fixated on being a veterinarian, but ultimately decided this was a no-go, because while I do adore animals and would love a job working with animals daily, there's just no way my heart could handle the goodbyes. My career of choice later evolved to creative writer. I loved the freedom it gave me, as I often struggled vocalizing my feelings. It was a way for me to create anything out of just words.

As a high schooler, I was posting poetry to the OG Facebook Notes giving the complicated feelings I was having comparisons to erupting volcanoes. I took every opportunity I could to write. For most of my high school career, I was on staff for my school newspaper, writing editorials and goofy opinions on the latest trends. During my senior year, I was the managing editor, designing and editing every page. Instead of sports, I found community and thrived on my high school’s competitive speech team, competing under a category of creative expression, which means it’s an original story. The scripts I wrote were always complicated themes involving loss and devastation, with the triumph to overcome. One speech in particular was about a widow who had lost her husband in the 9/11 towers. I won first place at our Big 9 regional completion with that speech. Because I loved that story so much, I spent that summer evolving it into a short play. I held tryouts, casting calls, made programs, and marketed it by letting my city newspaper know. The play was even featured in the 10-year anniversary edition of the Mankato Free Press.

Two of the speeches I wrote during my 4 years on the team (including the 9/11 piece) were eventually published with Mushroom Cloud Press, allowing competitive speakers in interpretation categories to perform it. To my disbelief, it’s still being performed today.

Creativity is where I thrived. Not just with writing, but in all ways. I wanted to put my hands in every creative medium there was, whether that be singing, writing, performing, art to simply decorating my bedroom. Despite the evidence stacking up that I had the creative chops to make it, I believed the opinions of others and let my passion become a thing I had to squeeze time for by following a trail those ahead paved for me. Coming from a long line of military members, I enlisted in the Army, as an active duty firefighter.

I would show the photograph taken of me at age 4, dressed as a firefighter.

You see, everyone…I’ve always wanted to be a firefighter.

Here's the proof, I’d say.

…yet I probably couldn’t recite a single time I actually expressed an interest in that career..

In retrospect, I know now I was masking. And I was morphing myself into someone who I thought would make others happy.

I was not athletic. I was not hardcore. I cry very easily, write long, sappy notes in greeting cards and remember panting my way through an 18 minute mile in gym class.

But somehow…I got through it.

After five years as a military firefighter, I knew that firefighting wasn't my calling and I wouldn’t be pursuing it following my enlistment. So I needed to figure out what I was going to do instead. What was I good at instead?

Art

Writing

But those options never came to the forefront of my mind because there was always a familiar voice in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough to make it in those careers.

So I leaned into the idea of social work or psychology instead. I knew I loved learning about humans. I could empathize deeply with others, and wanted to help people.

It still wasn't creative, but for the first time, it felt like a choice I was making for myself instead of one someone expected of me. I enrolled in courses toward the degree and starting prepping for my transition out of the army.

That must have set off some kind of bat-signal, because not long after, my parents sat me down and spent hours convincing me to think about computer science instead — the financial stability, the practicality of it.

Was social work my calling? Maybe not.

But it was my choice.

I folded on myself anyway, and jumped into someone else's boat.

After attaining my computer science degree, with a Magna Cum Laude (minoring in art), I got an amazing job at Delta Air Lines as a software developer.

For several years, I did really enjoy it. And I wasn’t too shabby at it. I learned fast and picked up concepts quickly. But there was always this half-empty feeling I couldn't escape. I thought I was supposed to feel more proud when tasks were completed.

I remember, on one of my first days, when I was asked what made me want to be a software developer by one of my colleagues, I said that I love doing art and I went into software because I hope to find opportunities to bring art more into software. I still cringe at my answer to this question.

In retrospect, I can see how revealing that answer was. That was like telling a basketball player I want to see more soccer playing on the court.

Over time, it became harder and harder to recognize myself. I wasn't who I wanted to be. I felt like a Windows machine, trying to run Apple updates.

Somewhere along the way I started suspecting I might be autistic. I already knew I had ADHD.. my indecisive job history had been telling me that for years.

Eventually my suspicion was confirmed.

AuDHD - Someone with both ADHD and Autism, a term coined by the neurodivergent community.

Learning this at 29 caused my identity to go through a much-needed upheaval. I started seeing everything through a new lens.

My past.

My future.

But especially the present.

I started paying closer attention to what my body was telling me — resting when it asked. I stopped explaining myself and was able to finally start hearing my own voice again. That voice, it turned out, had been trying to make things the whole time. Even when I wanted to be a writer as a child, I wanted to create worlds that anyone could be included in.

Art became the thing that grounded me through that upheaval. And somewhere along the way I remembered the act of being creative is something that has always kept my feet on the ground when the world feels like an erupting volcano. If I can put 100 percent into becoming a soldier, firefighter and software developer and be successful at it, what happens if I put my 100 percent towards something I truly love?

I am not sure… but I have to find out.

So with the aim of creating worlds again…

I quit my job.