A Letter From a 22 Year Old

Dear 22 year-old-me, I can’t believe this is fourth year writing one of my infamous letters to myself; granted, I know last year I wrote my letter to myself but I never posted it until after my birthday. Last year, was definitely something 😅. And so was this year.

Before writing this letter to myself, I went back and read all the letters I previously wrote days before my birthday—as was the intention of writing those posts. Reading letters to myself from when I was 19 to 21 was such a nostalgic bittersweet feeling in the sense that I think at the time you feel like you are going through the wringer and things are extremely tough, but when you think back about that moment, it doesn’t seem as hard as what you are feeling or experiencing right now. On the other hand, sometimes your memories were harder than what you are experiencing right now. I felt a sense of nostalgia for how young and naive I was in not really knowing what it meant to grow up. I knew that being an adult was difficult, but I didn’t know that it could feel like running on exhaust day in and day out. I don’t like to say I was naive, but I don’t think there’s an accurate enough word to describe how much I just didn’t know about growing up.

I still don’t know.

Being two years into being a “full-fledged” adult is so weird. I cook. I clean. I work. I pay bills. I grocery shop.

I miss the days where all I had to worry about was what book I was reading next or what I was going to eat for snack.

I miss not having a lot of responsibilities. That sounds dumb, but it’s true.

I miss the wonder-like sense of feeling excited for myself because I had more time for myself.

I mean, I always wondered why adults were so tired.

Now I am that adult.

I think it’s kind of sad to feel like the adults I used to question. I used to question where did their sense of love go. Where did their sense of creativity go? Where did their sense of fun go? Where did all the energy go?

Now I know. It goes towards learning how to take care of yourself more because literally no one else is going to do it for you. No one is going to buy you the groceries or cook you the food because you are all you have. No one is going to pay your bills because if you don’t, you have bad credit or you go in debt. No one is going to drive you places because you don’t know how to drive or you can’t drive, so you have to get out of the house and dress up in whatever you throw on just to go get groceries that you are too tired to cook. Sometimes being an adult is working so hard and so much that you lose track of time and before you know it the sun is setting and you have to figure out what to eat again. And by the time you figure out what to eat, you have to cook it and then that takes time. And then you might want o squeeze in a workout here or there or something. Don’t even get me started on how there never feels like enough free time for myself.

I am in a constant state of work.

As much as I mostly enjoy what I do, I am tired most days of just working. I mean, growing up and being heavily academic-focused, I have been always working. I feel like for the past 22 years, all I have been doing is working on my school work and now working on my work work, and I still don’t feel like I am at a place where I can just do things for me. And I miss that.

I miss being able to aimlessly draw or paint because I could—-I didn’t have to feel guilty about not planning lessons or not having enough time on top of all the adult things I have to do. I miss being able to bake without feeling like I am wasting time on what I could be doing. I miss being able to read for fun without feeling like I should be doing the next thing or I could be doing this or that. To be quite honest, I have been in a huge reading slump for the better half of the school years when I am teaching. I just never get into what I am reading fully when I am reading so sporadically. No one tells you that when you are an adult that you lose time for creativity and pleasure because you have to be practical and realistic. Sometimes it feels like I devote so much time to my work nowadays that I have emptied my passion and love for what I loved because I don’t have time for it even if I still want to feel that love and passion for it. You know? I don’t know, this is just me saying I miss feeling excited about what I loved as a kid and a teen. I still enjoy painting, baking, and reading, I just wish I could enjoy it more. I miss being able to go out with friends and family members without feeling like if I don’t get my work done, then it’s not going to get done and I am failing.

I know, I know, the biggest thing I for sure know I need to work on is balance because I don’t think that being an adult means you should compromise the things you love.

I read somewhere once how sometimes being an adult means taking things day by day and doing the little things that you did when you were younger and brought your joy. When I read that graphic or quote, it really resonated with me in the sense that sometimes being an adult can be so monotonous and you feel stuck in the same routines and patterns, that it truly becomes the little things that bring you joy and that you have to actively do to bring you joy.

As much as this sounds like I am ragging about being an adult 😅, there are things that I do to bring me joy amidst me figuring out how to be an adult.

I do the little things because they do help.

I try to read when I can even when I feel like I might not be fully into reading. I try to read my body language and feelings and if I really don’t want to read the book I’m reading, I learned to feel less guilty about being okay with saying, “no, I want to read a different book because I want to do something I enjoy.” I try to exercise to get out stress and energy and that has helped me. I want to make more time for artistry because I truly do miss drawing something and getting my hands and fingernails caked with paint because gosh knows no matter if I wear a smock or try to be careful with not getting paint anywhere, it gets everywhere. I guess, all this is to say that being 22 has taught me about the reality and truth about being an adult. It can be challenging, it can be lonely, and it can feel like losing pieces of yourself to fit into being what an adult should be. But I think it’s time we change what an adult should be.

Because shouldn’t adults have the time and space to be happy?

Fight for your happiness.

This is a sentiment I heard a couple of years ago when I needed to hear it. I remember I even wanted to print this saying in a frame and put it next to my bed so that when I woke up, the first thing I was reminded was that I should fight for myself to be happy.

Being a full-fledged adult has made it more apparent to me that you have to fight for your happiness because no one else will fight for your happiness or feel your happiness but yourself. I feel like as a kid, happiness, most times, comes naturally, but growing up, you’re faced with all these challenges that make it feel like each day you are battling these demons for what you hope is an ounce of happiness or even just a reprieve from fighting everyday. Fighting for a simple emotion is hard. It feels like walking in wet cement, hoping to get somewhere but when you keep moving, the the harder it is to keep going.

This year has been the most surreal, confusing, painful year where I had to fight for my happiness more than ever.

I would say the beginning of the year was a blur with teaching and ensuring that I was there for my students—that I was succeeding in my first year of teaching. You know, some might say success as a teacher might be a grade or a score, but for me, it was knowing that all my students left my room feeling loved and cared about. You can instill all the foundational knowledge and skills on students and teach them all these subjects they most likely won’t remember as they grow older, but the one thing you can’t teach is a feeling. Knowing that my first year students, all fourteen of them, exited my classroom knowing that there was someone out there who loved them with their whole heart, meant more to me than any test score or grade that I could have given them.

Saying goodbye to my first year class was the most surreal, painful, and heartbreaking experience. It almost felt like grieving what was, what is, and what would be. I wanted more time with them. I wanted more moments where we could sing, dance, and laugh about ridiculous things. I wanted more moments where we could form inside jokes with each other because we had a strong relationship as teacher and student. I wanted more moments where I could give them a high-five for doing their best or a sticker for succeeding. I wanted more moments to hug them for one more second, not wanting to let the last hug be the last hug. But they had to move on—they had to grow up.

Love does not need a future to exist.

And I know that no matter how old my first year students got or where they went, that I will always, always remember the love they taught me and gave me. I will always cherish the beautiful, brilliant, and hilarious moments we shared because they were ours. I will always carry with me the gift they gave me of helping me find my voice again in being silly, unserious, and lively. I have never laughed so much in a year, genuinely laughed. I have never felt so playful and ridiculous as I felt as a kindergarten teacher, in the best way because they truly don’t judge you, but allow you to be who you are. They made me realize that I was hiding this fun, playful person I always was but haven’t seen in a while. They taught me more than I could have ever imagined.

They might grow older and won’t remember what we learned or what exactly made us a class family, but I hope they always carry the feeling. I know I will.

If I’m being honest, that last day with them was painful. I tried to soak up every moment with them, but after I played our class slideshow, the waterworks came and we were all crying. I have never felt such a beautiful heartbreak before—a heartbreak born out of a complete and utter love. I felt like a mother watching her kids leave my nest, not knowing if they would return or if they would remember who I was. I just hoped. It was surreal going home that day because I was beyond exhausted and I remember taking a nap and waking up, not quite knowing if the day was a dream.

My first-year as a teacher was a dream because I had the sweetest class.

My second year?

UMMMMMMM, pure HECK 🤪.

Switching grade levels in the middle of the quarter really took everything left I had in me of my confidence and passion. I just couldn’t muster up the excitement I thought I would have from switching to my “dream grade” because I felt like a failure who didn’t belong anymore. I never wanted to go to work, I felt like an imposter, I just felt miserable. To be quite honest, some days I still question myself as a teacher and what I am doing, but the first few months of the new school year put me through the Tower of Terror and then dropped me in the middle of the Mariana Trench, asking me to swim out and to keep going.

I just felt like I couldn’t.

And it sucked because I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore or if I was good enough.

I’ve come to realize being good enough I say biggest insecurity.

I never felt enough growing up, and going from a successful first year to a arduous second year, felt like the ultimate failure on my part.

And it was during this low where I was barely keeping my head above water, that I remembered that sometimes fighting for your happiness might mean just breathing and taking the day, minute by minute and hour by hour. Sometimes fighting for my happiness meant closing my eyes at work before the bell rang because I felt so tired and confused. Sometimes fighting for my happiness was crying my heart out every night to my mom because I didn’t know who I was anymore. I never realized how important it was to have someone to talk to until I felt so alone.

Because at the end of the day, most days, I do feel alone. I will admit, I crave feeling the love that I never really felt as a kid. I mean, someone can tell you they love you, but feeling that love is a whole other story.

I guess where I am going with my ramble of all these things was that being twenty-two taught me that being an adult is not easy. Being an adult can feel very isolating and confusing because you lose who you are to the monotony of adulthood. I also learned that sometimes being an adult can also mean that happiness doesn’t come as easily—-you have to really fight for it everyday. And granted, happiness comes in waves because if we were always happy, we would never appreciate the moments when we feel the most happy.

But I think above all, being twenty-two taught me that I am stronger than I give myself credit for.

I am always the hardest person on myself because it goes back to feeling like I was never good enough as a kid, and now, an adult.

So I judge myself, I overthink everything because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But I need to start realizing that I have come so far from when I was nineteen and would barely say anything at home because I didn’t know who I was and I was sad all the time. I have come so far from the twenty-year old who lived through a pandemic without really talking to people and feeling like I had lost a year to experiences I could have had as a “normal” young adult. And I am not the same person I was even a year ago who was so burnt out from school and personal life that I was not in a healthy place too. It wasn’t even until I started my first year as a teacher with my first year students that I really found myself again in being confident and goofy and loud. And I did that. I taught my first-year. I taught my second and what felt like my third year now 😂. But I did that.

And not a lot of people can say that they experienced a pandemic, they did online learning, they taught kindergarten for a year and a month and switched grade-levels in the middle of a quarter. Not a lot of people can say that, and I need to remind myself that I have got through all of my hard days through grace and faith and resiliency. I mean, also exhaustion, but I got through it.

You’ll get through the hard days and years, I know it.

I know right now as you type this, you’re PMSing and every emotion is heightened. You feel like you haven’t accomplished much as a twenty-two year old because all you did was work and you have nothing to show for yourself except work, but you know what, you impacted so many lives and you continue to do so. Just remember to put yourself first after these first few years of teaching once you get into a groove because, my gosh, you deserve to be happy for yourself and to do things for yourself. I know that it feels like you’ll never get time to travel or go out with people or find someone, but you know, life has a funny or interesting way of working out. You never know what happens, and sometimes you have to trust the plan that maybe all the times something didn’t work out or didn’t go how you thought it would, was for a reason—-for something greater coming.

I hope that for you.

I know right now you are on the precipice of feeling unstable in work because you don’t know where you’ll be right now. Let those worries go because you can’t control what happens next school year, but you do know that you can do it—-you can go through the changes and you can handle whatever they want you to do because you did it this year. You have so much inner strength that no one sees or recognizes, but you see it and that’s all that matters.

It also sucks to feel like you’ve been single for twenty-two years, but again, maybe there’s a reason and something greater out there for you. I know you thought that you would be in a relationship by now, and it’s hard not to feel discouraged because of the lack of experience or interest you have, but don’t be. You have so much love in your heart to give and so much joy, that someone is going to recognize that some day and appreciate you for you. Don’t be with someone just because they are the first person you see and you want their attention. Be with someone who wants to be with you.

Also, love is not only romantic.

Love is everywhere.

Love is in the way you show up for yourself even when you have puffy eyes, a double eye-lid, and are exhausted. Love is in the way you take the time to run and work out for yourself. Love is in the way you try to read or watch movies and shows for yourself. Love is in the way you try to call your loved ones or talk to them when you can. Love is in the way you ask simple questions that show you care. Love is in the way you say hi to neighbors who eventually give you graduation cards or a pineapple they grew win their backyard for you because you were the only person who waved and said hi to that person in the neighborhood. Love is in your kindness and words.

Love is in everything. Trust me, love will come.

And it’s okay for your dreams or your ideas of what you thought you wanted or liked to change. Because guess what? You are not five years old or nineteen years old with the same dreams. Dreams can change, they can morph into who you are and what you want now. It’s okay to change your mind about how you feel. Maybe what you are growing through right now is teaching you what is right and best for you.

Every experience is a lesson if you search for what it is teaching you.

My hope for myself as I go into my twenty-third year is to make more time for myself. Actually. Like, not just write it and say it, but do it. Go out. Get out of the house. Go live. Do something dumb (not too dumb) and fun and just enjoy being a young adult because gosh knows I never let myself have fun because I know I get in my own way. I need to get out of my head and out of my way. I heard something recently too about how your house is not made for living, and that really resonated with me because it feels like I’m living in my house, when I should be living life outside with people, forming connections and finding experiences.

I hope that I let myself let go of any anger I have and just move on. Letting go might be difficult because of the hurt I felt and still feel, but I know I need to let go for myself. I don’t want to let myself feel angry all the time because then that person wins in affecting me. I know they hurt me, I know they don’t care how, but that doesn’t mean I have to carry that hurt with me. I can try to let it go and move forward as best as I can.

I hope I also get to actually travel because that has always been a goal of mine, but something I could never afford or do. But I think it’s time. It’s time to go on an adventure and actually see what the world has to offer and hold. I always felt like I needed to go out and explore the world—-like this siren call that there is something more for me than just school and work and staying home. I need to get my passport first.

I also hope that you continue to fight for your happiness. As someone who feels deeply, I know emotions can be heavy that they sink you. But don’t let those feelings anchor you, rise above them. Fight in the small ways, which will lead to bigger ways, which will lead to better days. There is happiness and hope on the other side of what you are feeling. You have been through it once, you can get through it again.

You should be so proud of what you have endured as a twenty-two year old. I know, it might not seem like you accomplished a lot, but you have grown in many ways visible and invisible. Be proud.

And to you on this twenty-second year, I hope you find all this and more 💕

Here’s to you always,