Serena Nguyen

I was always a creative kid. I used art to cope with feelings I had trouble putting into words. Art and creation housed the emotions I had trouble understanding. I often turned inwards as a means to self-soothe. Feelings and emotions are often dismissed in immigrant households, and so, I learned emotional regulation from an early age.

My parents fled their war-torn country on a crammed jaggedy boat in hopes to seek refuge and a fresh start. They only knew a life of insecurity, and hoped their children didn’t have to face the same hardships.

It was difficult to explain to my parents the difference in our times and opportunities. When I decided to pursue a career in the creative sector, my flaming ambition was met with a lot of anger and backlash.

We argued a lot and it was clear they wouldn’t budge. I understand now that they wanted to protect me from a life of insecurity that they knew too vividly. After a lot of emotionally charged back and forth, I finally decided to bet on myself and move to the big city. I worked 3-4 jobs at a time to sustain myself while in school, determined to prove my dreams were achievable at any cost. 

When creativity meets commerce, creatives often have to negotiate their art with the ideologies of the public. What sells? What do audiences want to see?

We begin to create for the purpose of fulfilling
others while forgetting to fill our own cup.

I was stuck in this funk for a while. I started pumping out more work, assets, and pitches I knew would “do well” in the market. I knew every step I needed to take to conquer this creative world. I even blew off plans with friends and family to stay on my grind. I had to focus even if that meant missing special occasions or casual get-togethers with my loved ones. I was consumed in the hustle culture because I was confident in my abilities and potential to build worlds beyond my wildest dreams.

 I told myself, the more I work now, the more I can sit back and enjoy later.

Nothing could stop me…
until I was quickly reminded that tomorrow isn’t promised.

When a loved one leaves this world, it’s like
a piece of your heart leaves in search of them. 

Grief is a funny feeling I’ve learned to navigate time and time again. It came to a point that so many pieces of me were gone, I lost my sense of self. I looked at my poor excuses for missing their face-time calls or saying no to casual ice cream runs. If only I could slow down and appreciate what I had at hand, rather than constantly reaching for the things I didn’t.

All I was left with were handfuls of mass produced creative projects that were inauthentic to myself and my inner child who brought me to this creative world in the first place. I fell into immense darkness and guilt. What’s the point in succumbing to the rat race if the ones you love weren’t there to celebrate with you at the finish line? Keeping busy was my refuge and looking inwards proved to be difficult.

I quietly discovered that when our loved ones leave this world,
all they want is for us to live authentically and unapologetically.

They’d tell me to conquer worlds they didn’t have the opportunity to, surround myself with people who could uplift and love me the ways they couldn’t anymore, and would remind me of who I was again. Now in my work, I do exactly that.

I’ve learned to look inwards and create worlds that my friends could have ventured to, and show off all the foods they would have loved to eat with me.

Through my darkness I’ve learned to embrace my light. 

I made it my mission to cheer and shine light on those I love because I know too well the feeling of darkness. I asked myself, “what kind of person did I need? What would they say? What kinds of words would they use?” As my healing continued, I embodied the person that I always needed and found my ambition to create again. YUME (dream) is a creative community and safe space for Asian-identifying creatives to showcase and celebrate their work.

I hope to create and foster that warm, supportive, creative community that my inner child once ached for. I am so thankful for the community of people who pulled me out of my darkness and it feels like all I have left to show the world is the brightness of the light I emit. I want to remind everyone that everything will be daijoubou (okay)!

Discover Serena’s healing journey @serenanguyen

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