Pivoting isn’t Quitting. It’s Courage. By Giuliana Dorso

By Giuliana Dorso 

Sitting in the Opera House, surrounded by thick red velvet walls, dramatic drapes, and gleaming gold accents, versus sitting at a bar stool in Patti’s Place, the local greasy spoon where no face is ever forgotten: these are the two defining pillars of my hometown, Thomaston, Connecticut. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone, a dynamic that proves to be as charming as it is challenging when it comes to privacy.

Growing up in a completely homogeneous and culturally uniform town, I spent my elementary school years chasing the desire to be like everyone else. I was captivated by the illusion that there was beauty in uniformity. I tried to copy the personalities of girls in my friend groups, bought the exact same clothes they wore, and forced myself to memorize every detail about important icons like Justin Bieber and One Direction. Yet, even at ten years old, attempting to navigate this unspoken mold was utterly exhausting. I didn't just want to fit in, I wanted to truly belong.

At the age of eleven I gave myself the most culture shock of my life transferring schools from Thomaston’s quiet and unwavering town to Waterbury Connecticut, a bustling city where not one person is the same as the next. This change, I didn't know it yet but this was where I was going to achieve the first phase of unlocking self discovery and that was exposure. Being now exposed to a multitude of diverse backgrounds, sexual orientations and most importantly an introduction to the power of the arts, for the first time I saw what it looked like to have my peers unapologetically not only stand on their own but also identify as being their own. 

Seven years at Waterbury Arts Magnet School (WAMS) truly flew by, bringing with them invaluable lessons that reshaped my character. The shy girl who once caved to the pressure of fitting in learned to embrace the art of standing out. Whether I was auditioning for a solo in the chamber choir, collaborating on a dance set with the choreography class, or putting the final touches on a new piece in the visual arts studio, the growth I experienced was astronomical. By the end of my time at WAMS, I was heartbroken to say goodbye, yet profoundly grateful to have been part of something that made leaving so difficult. Moving forward, I’ve made it my mission to seek out environments and communities that continue to challenge me, foster leadership, and honor that same authentic sense of self.

To say I struggled finding my “placement” within society again was honestly an understatement, I began my lengthy college journey at Salve Regina in Newport Rhode Island as a biology major, fascinated by  living creatures and other animal and planet evolutions. Though the curriculum was crafted with interesting areas of study, a beautiful campus and a roommate that became my best friend I still felt completely empty inside, lacking the passion and life I had months earlier. This felt more than just changing a major or dropping a class, this was bigger than me and I knew I had to take a step back, So I left Salve Regina after the first semester and came home to Connecticut and began taking classes at my local community college. 

There is an unspoken sense of shame leaving a college or even a job where you believed there was something there to build on for yourself and others, that these things should be straight shots for success, but it takes far more courage to leave the given environment, rather than waiting for things to “get better”. 

The following semester, I enrolled in community college. This transition allowed me to step back and reflect. Once again, I found myself surrounded by diversity—not just in cultural identities, but across generations. I loved learning alongside classmates of all ages, each bringing vastly different lived experiences to the table. Community college also opened my eyes to new academic possibilities as I completed my general prerequisites. It was during this time that I took Drawing 1. Sitting in that studio felt like a direct echo of my senior year Drawing 3 class at WAMS. In an instant, the spark returned; the passion for creation that I had been missing since high school was reignited. I realized that pursuing the arts was where I truly belonged, whatever form that path might take.

Community college came to a successful close, with diversity and the arts firmly woven back into my life. With an Associate’s Degree in Arts Studies under my belt, I was ready to pursue a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Printmaking at the Hartford Art School. On paper, it seemed like an ideal environment to grow both as an artist and as a person, and upon arriving, I saw that potential. True to form, I gave the semester everything I had—even as every project proved increasingly grueling, and despite feeling isolated as a transfer student among my peers. Soon, a hard truth set in: I wasn't growing; I was merely surviving. Realizing that this transition was far from fulfilling, I knew it was time to step back once again. After completing the semester, I returned home and began charting my next move.

That winding educational journey brings me to the present, where I am just two months away from earning my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Graphic Design and Media Arts at Southern New Hampshire University. Through it all, I’ve grown not only in my artistic craft, but in my ability to adapt whenever I recognize that a change is necessary. For a long time, the sheer amount of transition in my life—and my apparent inability to "stick with something"—was a source of deep shame. Now, looking back, I realize it was one of my most vital life lessons: not every environment we find ourselves in is where we are meant to stay. Recognizing when a space no longer serves your growth and having the courage to seek something better is never a failure—it’s an act of self-discovery.