When I first started university, I thought I had everything figured out. I had spent my last two years of high school in a small town where everything felt familiar. I had close friends, joined every club I could, and wrote for the school newspaper as I fell in love with storytelling. The articles I wrote were mostly inspired by emotion and issues my community was facing. It always felt so natural and was never restricted by structures or rules. I assumed that studying journalism at university would be a similar environment, just on a larger scale.
But it wasn’t. Toronto moved faster than I could keep up with. The city was loud, busy, and endless. I suddenly felt small in a city that never seemed to stop. The kind of writing that once came easily now felt restricted, boxed in by expectations I never understood. By the middle of the second year, that feeling hit even harder. I was lost, uncertain, and quietly afraid that I might’ve chosen the wrong program.
Everything changed one afternoon in the J-lounge, a space where journalism students gather between classes. I met an older student who told me about his freelance work in media and how he built his portfolio from scratch. He told me about how he tried everything from photography to video editing, event coverage, and learning as he went. Listening to him made something click. It gave me the courage to start talking to more people, to listen to their stories, and to learn how they found their niche. That was the moment I chose to stop letting fear hold me back and started letting it push me forward.
What Scares You Might Be Your Hidden Talents
Fear has a peculiar way of appearing just before growth does. I used to see it as a stop sign, which made me question whether I was good or ready enough. But I’ve learned that it often points toward something worth exploring. I was never the kind of person who enjoyed presentations or being in the spotlight. I always preferred one-on-one conversations, but I knew that had to change. The first time I stood in front of a camera for a class project, I was terrified — my voice shook, my hands trembled, and all I could think about was everything that might go wrong. But when it ended, something surprising happened: I felt a spark of curiosity, a pull to try again. So during the break between semesters, I started shooting clips on my own and watched editing tutorials online. With every small project, I felt myself getting better and even a little braver. Eventually, I realized that I actually enjoyed being in front of a camera. What had once scared me became one of my favourite creative outlets. That experience taught me that fear doesn’t always mean danger; it can be a sign that you’re doing something that has potential.
If You Don’t Ask, You Don’t Get
One of the biggest lessons I learned in university was that sometimes, if you can’t find the right opportunities, you have to create them. During my second year, I had to film a news report for a class, but I couldn’t find a suitable story. While scrolling through Instagram, an ad for Fashion Art Toronto’s Fashion Week caught my eye. I clicked through to their website, found a contact form, and, on impulse, emailed to ask if I could volunteer with their media team for my class project. The event was only four days away, so I didn’t expect a reply. But to my surprise, they said yes.
At the event, I found myself surrounded by professional photographers and videographers with years of experience. At first, I felt completely out of place. But once the runway lights came on and the music started, something shifted. I focused on capturing the moment and learned a great deal from observing how others worked. By the end of the night, all the fear had disappeared, and I was inspired.
That single email taught me a lesson that became engraved in my mind forever: If you don’t ask, you don’t get. It became a concept that I decided to live by, and taking that chance gave me the confidence to start facing the fears and weaknesses I had previously avoided, and to see them as challenges to grow from.
Stop Limiting Yourself
For the longest time, I held on tightly to one idea of who I thought I was. Writing had always been my comfort zone, and I assumed it would always be my path. But over time, that comfort turned into a cage I built around myself. The more I stayed within it, the smaller I began to feel. For months, I clung to what felt safe and avoided anything that made me nervous or uncomfortable.
Everything began to shift when I stopped treating the unknown as a threat and instead viewed it as an invitation and a challenge to improve. I began spending more time around people I didn’t know, who came from different backgrounds, programs, and passions. Our conversations were a reminder that the most foolish thing we can do is to stick to one plan, and there are certainly different ways a story can be told.
Curiosity slowly replaced fear. I began experimenting with photography, production, and digital storytelling, each of which shaped my perspective on the world around me. Some days it felt awkward or intimidating, but every time I pushed through, I came out a little more confident.
After a while, I noticed a change in myself. I went from wanting to run home as soon as class was over to sticking around campus, chatting with classmates, getting involved in new projects, and actually looking forward to what might come next. It felt like every new skill and experience I had gave me a sense of purpose that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Eventually, that energy and feeling became something that I constantly crave. It was almost as if each small win was a small puzzle piece that brought me closer to the bigger picture. Now, whenever I catch myself being afraid of change, I get excited because I’ve learned to see it as a sign that something good is on the way.
Looking back, every turning point in my university experience started with fear. It was there when I questioned my place in my program, when I stood in front of the camera for the first time, and when I sent that email. For so long, I believed that this feeling meant I was doing something wrong, or that I was not ready or good enough. But now I see it differently. Fear doesn’t show up to stop you; it shows up as a challenge to test if you are willing to go for what you want, even when you’re unsure of the outcome. Now, when fear shows up, I listen to it because most of the time, it leads me exactly where I need to go.