For a long time, I believed purpose had to look a certain way.
I was an actress and pursued that dream for eight years.
I worked hard.
Performed in a few shows.
I even won an award for best performance.
And yet, something strange kept happening:
I felt deeply unfulfilled.
I was constantly fighting — to be seen, to be called, to be acknowledged, to land the next job. It felt like swimming against the current of a river. And every time I reached what I thought I wanted, a quiet voice would whisper:
All this… for that?
The satisfaction never lasted.
Year after year, I played this game, and little by little, I lost myself in the hardship of the industry. Without noticing, I began cultivating inner seeds that didn’t feel like me anymore: anger, jealousy, frustration, envy, comparison, and deep sadness.
I bent myself into shapes that weren’t mine, trying to fit into places that never truly fit me.
Until one day, everything collapsed.
I hit a wall — hard.
Lost a lot, including my sanity of mind.
Some might call it burnout.
Even I kept asking myself, Why?
But today,
I call it life — gently, and not so gently — dismantling beliefs that were never true to begin with, so I could rebuild on more solid ground.
I often think of it like a flower trying to grow through concrete.
It’s possible — but painful.
And, sometimes, the wiser choice is to move the seed to more fertile soil.
When that wall of old beliefs fell, something unexpected happened:
I was introduced to my Purpose.
Not as a revelation.
Not as a lightning bolt.
But as a simple gesture.
Someone dear to me encouraged me to paint.
I had never painted before, but I was empty, with time on my hands and nowhere to run.
So I bought a canvas and started.
In the slow rhythm of painting, something softened.
Time disappeared.
I felt present again.
Painting led me to artists.
Artists led me to books.
Books led me to a painter who was also a photographer.
I didn’t even know you could be both — but something about that medium pulled me in. I bought a camera and started photographing the people around me.
I had no idea where any of it was going.
All I knew was this: it felt good !
And because I didn’t stop, new seeds began to grow inside me — seeds of love, compassion, contribution. I started truly understanding and loving who I am.
The old seeds — envy, jealousy, comparison — quietly faded away.
I realized something then:
when you feel deeply fulfilled, there’s no room left for comparison.
When you’re aligned, you don’t need to compete.
I’ve felt purpose while holding a camera — not because of the camera itself, but because of the gaze.
The moment when you truly see someone.
And yourself.
The reactions of the people I photographed changed me deeply. Their smiles. Their excitement. Sometimes their tears — when they saw themselves through my lens and recognized a beauty they had forgotten.
That was it.
Not performance.
Not validation.
But a profound sense of service towards others.
Purpose, I’ve learned, doesn’t always announce itself loudly.
Often, it arrives as a pull.
A repeated curiosity.
A need to express something you can’t keep inside.
A way of seeing that refuses to leave you alone.
Purpose is about alignment.
It’s about the moments when you feel most like yourself — even if no one is watching.
Especially then.
Purpose is not something you chase.
It’s something you notice.
And the more honestly you notice it,
the clearer it becomes.
If there’s one thing I hope you take from this, it’s this:
You don’t need to have everything figured out to be on purpose.
Sometimes, being on purpose simply means listening a little more closely to the whispers of life and to what keeps calling you back — again and again — until you finally answer.
Thank you for being here.
This space exists for reflection.
And I’m grateful you’re part of it.
With love,
Chanel Victor