We’re all faced with things that make us uncomfortable from time to time. This alumna tells us how learning to embrace that discomfort and walk through the open doors in her life has led to one great opportunity after another.
by Lizzy Willingham ’14
I’d never flown by myself. The only traveling I’d done was with my family on vacations – and that trip we made to Guatemala to adopt my brother. But this was totally new. I was going to Costa Rica. Alone.
Was I scared? Eh, maybe. More excited than anything. I was doing something new. I was leaving my comfort zone. I was taking a chance.
Being a student in the College’s studio art program, I’d learned the value of saying, “yes.” Yes to things I didn’t know anything about. Yes to internships at art galleries. Yes to show openings. Yes to meeting the “talked about” people in our city.
So, when I finished all my class credits in December, a semester ahead of my peers, I decided to say yes to Costa Rica.
I reserved my flights and a room at a hostel that offered a volunteer program (work a few hours each day, sleep for free – not a bad deal) in a town that a friend had recommended. He knew some people there, so if anything went wrong, there was at least someone to turn to.
Not that I anticipated trouble. I had the feeling I’d be OK – mostly because, all my life, Charleston had taught me to sit back, relax, look like you know what you’re doing and, eventually, you’ll figure it out.
And that’s what I did when I stepped off the bus in Santa Teresa, where I would spend the next 10 weeks. I applied those same rules that brought me there: Look like you know what you’re doing. Stay cool.
That proved difficult. Nothing is cool about being the whitest white girl in a surf town. And I clearly didn’t know what I was doing: I couldn’t speak Spanish well and I was wearing jeans and a hoodie in 94-degree heat. But I kept on faking it. I got off the “chicken bus” and found the hostel, where I’d end up staying for the first month as I got to know the town, the language and the waves.
I grew up surfing the East Coast, but – as I quickly learned – the waters of Costa Rica’s Pacific Coast are completely different. These waves were scary. I was out of my comfort zone, sure. I could have only surfed the baby waves. And I could have just relied on people who could speak baby English. But I learned to say yes to the waves I didn’t want to take – and I learned to say si to speaking the language whenever I could. (And, apparently, even when I couldn’t: I once confused the word for travel, viajar, with the word for old woman, vieja, and ended up asking my male friend if he’d ever “touched an old woman.”)
Despite my foibles, I made friends. I showed them my photography. I collaborated with them and posted my work on the town’s Facebook page when they encouraged me to do so. I offered to do what I love – lifestyle photography – for local businesses. Pretty soon, I was photographing the town for a travel blog. Yes was working for me.
If I’d never left home, I would have never thought I could make a living as a photographer in any other place. Yes, I’d been put on a wave that scared me, but I learned to surf it. The reins were taken away, but I learned to let go. I also learned how to be OK with doing nothing, which is good because a lot of days there wasn’t much more to do than surf and eat.
And that was fine by me. Nothing beats Latin American sweets and fruits. I miss the food. I miss the sunset rallies where everyone in the town goes down to the beach to watch the gold sink under the water.
Back in Charleston, every time someone asks about my trip, I’m able to relive little pieces of that time with them. “Do you miss it?” “Would you go back?” Yes, I miss it. And yes, I would go back. Absolutely, I would go back – and hopefully with more friends and people to see once I got there.
I’m keeping my eyes out for another chance to travel outside of my city. I used to think that people who loved travel were just running from something, but now I see how it can just be plain fun. I have felt the thrill of newness and uncertainty that comes with being in a strange territory. I get it now.
But I still hold this to be true: There’s nothing like knowing a place deeply the way I know my home. I’m someone who likes having people and places that I am well acquainted with. I’ve spent my life in Charleston, and it has bred me into the person I am. It is my home.
Besides, Charleston has plenty to say yes to, too.
Yes to better relationships with the people I care about. In Costa Rica, I learned what it felt like to be lonely, and I learned to value the time I have with people I want in my life for the long haul. We can be a transient, flaky bunch, but we don’t have to be.
Yes to being honest and open. Yes to photographing just because, even if I might not be getting paid. Yes to starting conversations and connections even when I don’t know where they’ll lead. I recently said yes to a creative conference – a networking-type thing that I’d typically avoid – and met someone who has now hired me for lifestyle photography of an oyster farm. How Charleston is that?!
I feel really good about being where I am for a while. I learned a lot about life while I was away, but – even here in Charleston – there’s something to say yes to every day.
No, I haven’t seen a lot or lived many years, but this is one thing I’ve learned: Even when you don’t know where it will get you, take the chance. Even when you don’t know what you’re doing. Stay cool. Hold your head high. Just fake it. You might fall flat on your face, but you also might learn something you’d never otherwise know.
Yes: You’ll be better off for it.
– Lizzy Willingham ’14 is a freelance photographer based in Charleston.
Check out her work at elizabethervin.com.
