Favorite Lessons and Moments of 2022

Dear 2022, what a year you have been. I had no idea what you would have brought, but here we are 365 days later, wondering how everything that happened happened, and wondering how I ended up where I am today.

Unlike previous years, I genuinely had no expectations for what I thought would be this year. Going into 202, I knew I was all gung ho with being “this is going to be the best year yet,” and last year, all I wanted was the pandemic to be over and to not feel as heavy, that I never let myself hope or imagine what 2022 could be. I probably wanted the same thing I wanted at the end of last year—-for the pandemic to be over and for things to feel remotely normal. I believe it has been a hard, but realistic truth to know that I don’t think the pandemic is not going to magically disappear because the pandemic is now something we live with. I think we have just moved on as people because we couldn’t let the pandemic stop us from trying to live again. And I quite didn’t like being on pause for so long.

This year felt like everything was put on play again.

We could go back to school in person. We could have larger events with or without masks. We could eat out or go out with or without masks without a limit. We had concerts and parties and events. We had graduations for the first time in forever. We could see families without feeling wrong about it. We could try to live again.

When we put something on pause, the whole picture just stops—everything is frozen. When we press play, all the people, objects, and images in that scene needs to catch up to the moment we press play.

I don’t think most of us were ready for what it meant to press play.

We, or myself, felt like I didn’t know how to be or live in the world again after fearing going out for so long or barely having normalcy. When I did have a sense of normalcy, I had to dip my toe into who I was again around people and what I felt comfortable with. Also, I feel like being on pause for so long made us all feel like we had to press play and move at lightening speed to account for the last few years we were all frozen.

I feel like I have been living on warp speed in some of the best and worst ways possible.

Let’s start with the worst, or should I say hardest. I didn’t realize how much my relationships within my family would change until it did. I didn’t realize how much I took comfort or tolerance in a familial relationship until I was forced to confront and unlearn every emotion or idea I thought was healthy. But when I recognized the way that this person has been treating me, it allowed me to let go in a way I always wanted but never thought I could do.

I just didn’t think it would happen the way it did though.

On a happier note, so many things happened this year that made me feel like I was finally growing up. I don’t know. I think being twenty, I felt like, “Oh, yea, I’m an adult now,” but I didn’t feel like an adult. Being twenty-one felt like, “Oh, I’m an adult now and I should figure out what being an adult means to me.” And I was kind of shoved into growing up—into being uncomfortable enough to learn adult things.

Also, something absolutely magical and surreal—something I still cannot process–happened this year, that changed my life forever. Every moment since that moment has felt like a dream turned reality, you know though, some days a nightmare 😂, but mostly a dream. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be able to do what I love at a place I love with the people I love. It truly is surreal.

With all this being said, 2022 has been my life when I pressed play. This year has been many difficult truths and conversations, endless tears that I felt I would never find my way out of, beaming smiles and giddy hearts of accomplishing what was ostensibly out of reach, and reconnecting to who I was. Similar to last year, there were many favorite lessons I gained and will take with me. However, when I was writing this post, I came to truth that many of these lessons were not so much my favorite lessons, but hard lessons I had to learn. The hardest lessons come from the most bitter truths, but teach us what we need to not feel that way again.

Here are some of those favorite and some of those hard lessons I learned:

✨ Favorite and Hardest Lessons ✨

Trust Your Passion and Dream

Ever since I was five years old, I had a dream. I would put a big whiteboard on my dresser and lay out my Expo markers and eraser beside my whiteboard and pretend I was teaching my very own class. I had names for all of my “students” and a small foldout picnic table in the center of my room where my students would sit and listen to me teach about things I was learning in school, whether it was addition or subtraction or what a character was. I don’t completely remember what I would teach, but I know I enjoyed teaching whatever my “students” were learning. I even went as far as to create tests and homework that I would ultimately do. I had my favorite students who I would ensure their work was perfect, and I would stamp and put stickers on that students work. I also had my not-so-favorite students whose work I would do wrong because they weren’t getting it. I even had sticker charts for all my students that I placed on the back of my door where my parents couldn’t see it because then they would really think I was weird. But I loved teaching.

I loved talking to my students and having the sticker charts and writing on my little whiteboard.

I can’t say the exact moment I knew I wanted to be a teacher—-it was always just a feeling; I had a feeling that I just loved working with kids and teaching about things to help others learn.

Growing up, you would think my dreams would have changed.

But they never did.

I still wanted to be a teacher.

I had teachers who inspired me even more so to pursue teaching, and I had teachers who inspired me to become a better teacher than who they were. There was one teacher in particular who changed my reasons for wanting to be a teacher. Before it was because I liked working with kids and the idea of stamping things and giving stickers. But this one moment will forever ingrained in my brain—-the moment a teacher said she would help me because she believed in me.

I was never the best at school, always having to work to appear smart when for others, learning came seamlessly. But I had to really try because math was difficult for me and I struggled as a reader. Over the years and with additional support, I did improve in reading. However, I struggled with math. I was going to take a state assessment that year, and I had after school tutoring with a small group of students who were close to passing the math state assessment. I remember we were working on a problem in tutoring and I was called to solve the problem in front of the whole class and I got the answer wrong. As a kid who was already not confident and who felt dumb, my eyes just started to downpour—an absolute torrent of tears. I felt like I fell on my butt in front of the small group and ripped my pants. I was mortified that I was wrong and that everyone saw that I wasn’t as smart as I made myself out to be. My teacher pulled me aside that afternoon and told me that she believed in me and she would help me. When I stopped believing in myself, she believed in me.

That is a feeling I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

That is a feeling I hope to instill one day for one of my students.

And thus, the reason I wanted to teach took on a whole new meaning.

I wanted to work with kids because I wanted them to have someone who believed in them when they stopped believing in themselves. I also wanted to be someone to bring joy and support to their lives because kids are at school for a great portion of the day, and if I could support them to be the best they could be and to have fun while doing so, then that would be the greatest gift. I also wanted to be a safe space for someone if they ever needed support.

I went to high school and had an elementary internship my last two years. I went to college and studied education, and gosh knows I burnt out my last two years in my education cohort program—-in a pandemic no less.

But for 17 years, my passion and dream did not change.

Did my passion and dream waver?

Of course. I was five years old and still had the whole world to explore—-endless possibilities. I also felt burnt out studying education my last few years of college, to the point I questioned if all this burn out was worth becoming a teacher one day.

It’s natural to feel your dreams waver.

But when I distanced myself from my burn out, I found renewed love for teaching.

This summer, the same month I was to graduate, I had an interview that changed my life.

I will mention it more later in this post, but suffice to say, dreams do come true.

Dreams come true if you believe in that dream with all your heart and you never give up on that dream or passion. Working towards that dream and putting all your love and care will also get you closer to achieving that dream. This year taught me that if you truly believe in something, you can achieve it. If you truly believe in yourself to achieve your dream, you can achieve it.

There are no words to describe how happy I am that I never gave up on myself and my dreams. I am happy that I never gave up on myself because of all the teachers who never gave up on me. I am happy to now live the dream I always imagined.

To think about my five year old self with her little whiteboard, her Expo markers, fake class, made-up homework and tests, and sticker charts, to think about her and how far she had come to be where she is now—-a whole a** classroom with real students and a huge whiteboard that spans the front of the room—-I like to think that five year old is happy.

I like to think that five-year old is freaking out.

But most of all, I know that five year old is more than proud for who I am today.

Love Should Not Hurt You

A long time ago, I read a quote by Bianca Sparacino that said, “Love should not hurt you as much as it should heal you.” It was one of those quotes that made my eyes halt and backtrack to the very first word, trying to recapture and process its meaning. When I reread that quote, my head couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

Someone who genuinely loves you, would not want to hurt you.

That is not love.

That is the antithesis of love.

Being in a relationship with someone should not hurt you.

That is not healthy.

Love should not hurt you.

I didn’t realize how much I tolerated what I thought was love from someone in my life, when really this person treated me unhealthily I believed this person’s love at face value because I didn’t know better—I was too young to understand what was manipulation and gaslighting—-to protect my heart from someone else’s hurt that they were directing on me. My heart feels like a hand squeezing an orange until there’s no juice left—nothing left to give—for my younger self who accepted this person’s love because this person was one of the only people around for me to know as love. I think that’s so difficult when you are not raised with a lot of love or people around you who show you love, that the first person or just anyone really, who shows you love, makes you believe that that is love.

But how do you know what love is if you’ve never seen or heard a healthy form of love?

So I let this person’s form of love hurt me. For years.

I let this person belittle me with the things he said or did. I took in his demeaning comments about my personality and my hopes because he was the only person around to show me love.

I let this person make me feel inferior because I already didn’t love myself, so what was not loving myself more going to hurt.

For so long, I thought that this person loved me and said or did things out of tough love or because family is honest with you, even when you don’t want to hear it.

But that’s not love.

it’s not love if it hurts.

It’s not love if it diminishes your confidence and everything you stand for.

It’s not love, if it doesn’t see you at your lowest and say that you need help. Instead, they see you at your lowest and blame you for it and say something is wrong without helping you.

It’s not love if they use who you are against you and your dreams.

It’s not love if they constantly step on you, hoping you feel “the love” of their presence.

It’s not love.

But I accepted it as love as a kid and most of my adulthood.

Except this year.

This year, I realized the way I was treated my whole life was not with love, but with hurt—-hurt from generations that did not treat this person with love, hurt from this person’s anger and pain from his personal hardships that he translated to me.

I was treated with the illusion of love, all with the realness of pain.

But no more.

As much as it was a difficult realization, knowing love should not hurt me gave me the strength to know what I deserved. To know that I deserved more than the illusion of love or the pretense of it—I deserved people who loved me for me and who did not hurt me in the process of doing so.

The People Who Love You, Will Love You

Knowing that I had someone treat me with love that hurt for most of my life, shone light on all the people who loved me in a healthy way.

I genuinely believe that someone who loves you, will show you that they love you.

If they do not love you, they will not.

They will not show up for you in a healthy way and they will not say things that highlight their love for you.

Plain and simple.

Love is such a complex emotion with a plethora of layers. But the way someone shows love, is the least complicated thing there is.

Showing someone you genuinely love them will be as clear as day—-no confusions, no questions.

I believe someone who loves you will support you through your accomplishments and successes. Someone who loves you will also be there when you do not achieve something you always wanted, and will be there as the shoulder to cry on or the person with the tape to mend your broken pieces. Someone who loves you will help you when you don’t ask for it. Someone who loves you will listen to all the things you say, but most importantly, the things that you don’t say. Someone who loves you will do things out of their love for you because they see how much you are hurting and want to bring you joy. Someone who loves you will sit down with you to have those difficult conversations and listen when you feel like no one has been listening to you for years. Someone who loves you will not judge you for what you say, but they will understand where you are coming from and help you find a way to heal or move on from all the things you have been holding back or holding onto. Someone who loves you will go out of their way to check on you or make a day extra special for you because they know how much you’ve been struggling. Someone who loves you will be there to talk to you at all hours of the day for even the most ridiculous things like how to cut meat because you don’t know how to cook but are learning how to or if you don’t know how to do laundry or clean the toilet.

Real love, honest to gosh, genuine love is found in all those little moments and actions that we never think twice of because we think those are just things people do to be nice or because they care. But those actions come out of love. They are birthed with care because they love you and they want to show you they love you. Love is not just the grand gestures, it’s the gestures that feel grand and special to you.

I know more than ever the people who love me, and I cannot express or even describe how grateful I am to be loved by them.

I Deserve More

I never knew my worth.

Sad as that statement may be, but this year, I recognized that I always let other people come before me—–other people’s problems, happiness, and responsibilities. I put myself on the back burner growing up because I felt responsible for making other people happy that I didn’t realize how heavy my heart was carrying the weight of everyone else’s happiness, that my own happiness was left behind long ago.

But when I finally let go of the weight of making everyone else happy and being who everyone wanted me to be for them, I felt . . . I felt free.

I don’t even know how to properly describe it.

I feel like ever since I was eight years old, I had mountains and boulders on my back because I needed to make everyone around me happy. I needed to fix the hardships and pain that damaged my family, and I felt like I was the only one left who actually cared about maintaining what was left of what was severely broken. So I carried all those broken bit with me for year, and over those years, more boulders and bits fell on my back until I was barely standing—-feeling like Atlas with the weight of the world on me.

Then one day, I just let it go.

I let go all my reservations, my pain, my anger, my frustrations. I. just. let. it. go.

I spoke every ounce of pain I had been keeping inside, out.

I just let the world fall around me.

And getting to that conversation felt like I was using the last recesses of my strength just to speak out in the universe what has been hurting me. But when I finally let the words flow out of me, the world around me didn’t crash with a deafening roar. It was silent, except the beat of my heart and the taste of my saltine tears flowing down my face, not in sadness but in freedom.

The freedom of no longer feeling like I had to carry everything on my own.

I never knew how heavy my heart had become until that heaviness was no longer suffocating me.

Once I let go, there was a lightness there that I didn’t know I could have, yet alone have felt since I was a kid.

I didn’t know what to do with it. Or how to feel without feeling like I had to carry everything on my own. I mean, what do you do with freedom?

You live.

You realize that you always deserved to live—-to live the most unapologetic, wholesome, joyous life you deserved to live.

The life I had always deserved to life.

I will always remember sitting on my couch in the living room after having this conversation with someone in my life—-someone who I had a difficult conversation with to let all these burdens go—-and I just say there, staring out my window. I looked at the blue sky and the clouds drifting by, blurry amidst the water trekking down my face. I thought to myself, “I have never felt so free.” I thought how I could finally live for me because I deserved it. I could go out by myself, I could put friends and other relationships first, I could try new things for myself and not feel guilty or responsible for someone else. I remember thinking of all the things I could do now that I was my own person again.

I didn’t have a weight on my back or a ball tethered to my foot.

I could just be.

And that’s what I slowly learned to do.

I learned to drive to more places and go out and get food. I learned to cook meals even though there were moments I nearly burned the house down or scorched my meal. I learned to go out with friends who I haven’t seen in a while because I wanted human connection with people. I learned to manage money as best as I could even if I struggled most days with navigating how to save my money and when and where to spend it. By doing all these things, I grew as a person—-a person I would have never thought I could be a year ago.

Through all these changes and moments of growth, I ultimately learned that I always deserved more than I felt growing up. Not many people know what I have experienced as a kid to be the person I am now. I don’t think many people will know unless you grew up with me or know me personally. But my childhood wasn’t perfect—-it wasn’t a picturesque family and rainbows and butterflies and happy pictures. It was a lot of, well, pain. My childhood was pain from situations that didn’t work out and people who made me feel inferior or horrible in my own body and personality. My childhood was trying to navigate how to be enough for everyone around me that I never stopped to ask myself what I wanted of myself or if I was happy with who I was or where I was at. I was so concerned about everyone else because I wanted people who were supposed to love me to love me. But you know what? If someone doesn’t already love you or respect you as you are, then they will never love and respect you no matter how hard you try to be something they want you to be.

I had to learn that the hard way.

When letting go of a lot of that pain and burden this year, a big looming lesson lit up in my brain: I deserved better.

I deserved better to have never been made to feel the things I felt as a kid. I deserved better to have never vied for love from people who didn’t know how to love or who would never love me because they already showed me that they didn’t love me for me. I deserved so much more.

Now that I know that I deserved more, I have reclaimed who I am to live for me.

That was the best choice I have made in a long time.

Healing Makes Room for Growth

When letting go of pain from the past, it allows for growth.

If there’s a phrase I could describe this year, it would be broken light.

I envision how when you look up at a tree and the leaves are slowly shifting from the breeze that winds through the branches. When the leaves dance and caress each other in a loving embrace, sometimes you can see the sunlight filtering and flitting through the pockets of spaces left between the leaves and the branches. The light creates a kaleidoscope on your face or on the ground of all the light that has gotten through the darkness or the shadows of hiding something beautiful and magical.

This year has been one of the most painful years, but also brought a lot of light. There was light on top of everything, hidden by the darkness and pain that I have always felt, but when things shifted and my perspective changed, I could see it. I could see the light filtering in on all the beautiful and magical things I had no idea were going to happen or that I would feel. I let the light into the darkest parts of me, which allowed me to see the beauty there was to all that darkness and pain.

You can’t grow if there is nothing to grow from. Pain is the seed in which you can find the space to bloom again.

And as much as I talked about going through many changes and letting people go and knowing my worth this year, I wouldn’t change any of the complex emotions and situations I faced because it allowed me to see the light and bask in it more—to appreciate the light for what it did for me.

If I hadn’t known such pain or darkness, I wouldn’t have found such light that allowed me to grow.

I like to think I’m finally growing into a person who is learning how to live and love again, for herself.

You Are Your Own Best Friend

At the end of the day, when you are sitting at your counter or dining table or even your bed, looking out at the world around you, listening to the hustle and bustle of life or maybe even the silence of life slowing down, all you have is yourself.

This is not to be a morbid thought, but an honest one.

Because no one else is going to be there for you the way you are going to be there for you.

No one is going to know you as much as you know yourself. No one is going to know how you are feeling, what you have been through, what you are going through, what you need, what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what makes you hurt, what makes you feel impassioned, what makes you feel tired. No one. I mean, someone might get to know you enough to know all these things, but no one ever truly knows you to the core of who you are except you.

Because you are your own best friend, and should be your own best friend.

As cliché as that may sound, I didn’t understand the value of this sentiment until I stepped into my independence enough to realize that only I can rely on myself to be there for me.

I have relied on different people throughout my life because it was easier to have them care for me or to feel like someone was there. I never realized how dependent I was on other people to do things for me until I was old enough to take care of myself, and even then, being a late bloomer in figuring out what it means to be independent. I was kind of forced into taking care of myself this year and letting go of the people I used to rely on because they found their own independence, whether it be in an unhealthy way, they found their own sense of independence.

So it was about time I found mine.

It was freaking difficult. It was like being given a car without ever learning how to drive and excepting to know how to use the car and where to go. I had no idea what I was doing.

I had to learn how to do my laundry for the first time. I had to learn how to use the dishwasher for the first time. Now, now, before you lambast my a** for not knowing how to do laundry or use the dishwasher, I was never expected to wash my own laundry or use the dishwasher until this year. And I am also very aware of how privileged and lucky I am to say that because my parents had helped me with those things as I was in school and I know I should have done those things sooner. However, yes, you can judge me for not knowing how to do my laundry, but the dishwasher part? Nope. Growing up in an Asian household, there was always one way we washed our dishes: by hand. We would stand there and scrub every single dish until it was clean and then put it in the dishwasher to dry. If you grew up in an Asian household, please let me know below in the comments if your family was the same way. But the dishwasher was our drying rack and was never used for its intended purposes 😅.

But with family dynamics shifting this year, my brother and I got tired of hand washing every single dish and standing at the sink for a lot longer than we needed to. So we said to heck with washing our dishes the hard way and bought ourselves some dishwasher cleaner and started using the dishwasher. So no, I do not feel dumb for not knowing how to use the dishwasher before this year because using the dishwasher wasn’t something I grew up using.

I do feel dumb for not knowing the other rudimentary adult things I should have known. And yes, I am very self-aware of my idiocy.

I learned how to cook this year for myself. I had to look up different recipes online and throw things together, hoping they came out good. Nevertheless, I enjoyed learning how to cook for myself and my brother because it highlighted to me that I could cook and that I always knew how to, I just didn’t need to. I mean, I liked helping my parents cook in the kitchen when I was younger, but when school got more challenging and I went away for college, I never had the desire to cook for myself because I was always tired or busy. I mean, I’m still tired and busy because now I have a real-life job, but it’s nice to try to make a meal for myself. I also always feel proud when I make a meal for myself because I might not be Gordon Ramsay, but hey, what I cook is definitely something and it’s better than nothing.

I learned how to grocery shop for myself. Sounds dumb, I know. But I always though grocery shopping was one of the highest, most you’re-an-adult-now things to do. I was scared to actually step into being a full-fledged adult, and I felt like if I grocery shopped for myself, then I would be officially an adult. I needed to grocery shop for myself though because how else was I going to eat or cook food. So I grocery shopped for myself. I felt awkward about going to the grocery store by myself and picking out things like I was an adult when really I am still figuring out how to be an adult. I felt like everyone was looking at me and judging this young adult who was trying to pick her broccoli or carrots in the produce aisle and grabbing her boxed Mac n’ Cheese. It’s such a weird experience to grocery shop for yourself because it’s such an adult thing to do—-to provide for yourself.

No one ever talks about this either, but I feel like when you are 21 or in your early twenties, you still feel like a teenager or a kid, however, you’re considered an adult. So when you do things that are adult like, you almost feel like an imposter for being a grown-up when you are barely grown up, you are growing up. Or at least, that’s how I feel about being in my early twenties, doing all these things that I have seen my parents and my older siblings do for so many years. It’s like walking in someone else’s shoes, hoping that if you wear it out enough times, that the shoes will magically fit.

I believe the shoes will never fit the right way, but they do become more comfortable. I have grocery shopped for myself more and more, and it does feel less daunting or awkward to go into a store and pick things I need for myself. I also think going grocery shopping more by myself has given me confidence to not feel weird about grocery shopping.

I also learned to drive to more places this year. I am not the most explorative driver in the world. Heck, I wasn’t even the most excited to get my driving permit when I was fifteen and a half. Not that I didn’t want to drive, I was just scared to because of how significant a responsibility driving is; I knew I needed to know how to drive because driving is a basic life skill, but I wasn’t in a rush to drive. I did get my driver’s license when I was sixteen or seventeen, but I never ventured to drive anywhere outside of the community I lived. However, being more independent—or having to be more independent—-I learned the value of GPS. I am proud of myself for all the times I have driven outside of my community and tried to make that effort to go somewhere I was not comfortable driving to. I was terrified for so long to go on the freeway and go past the bounds of where I was comfortable, that I barely saw the beauty of where I lived—I slowly forgot that there was more out there in the world than where I was from.

Through doing all these things by myself, I became my best friend in the way I never was. I used to be so hard on myself and treat myself like I was this horrid thing or the last thing I should care about. But when I finally put myself first, I realized how much I needed that. When I also started being more kind to myself—gentle with my body and mind—-I realized how much I needed that. When I started doing things for me by me, I realized how much I needed that, but also how much strength there was in that.

I always thought being by yourself or being independent would feel lonely, but I have come to feel like it’s the least lonely thing of all—-to slowly know who you are to give yourself what you need. Sure, having others to do things with is wonderful and I love doing things with other people. But I used to crave other peoples company so badly that I would sit in silence and sadness, wondering why no one liked or feeling this pit of emptiness from being lonely. I haven’t felt that pit suck me in as much this year, and I attribute it to being there for myself in a way I haven’t been.

When I let go of my burdens and found the hurt slipping off my shoulders, I found so much more than freedom. I found myself again.

After so long being sad and resentful all the time by others who continued to consciously or subconsciously hurt me, I could finally see who I was through the broken light.

I found that girl who used to hope.

I found that girl who used to dream.

I found that girl who used to laugh.

I found her.

And I am going to keep finding who she can be and treat her right.

Growing Up Means Losing Parts of Ourselves

A long time ago, I heard of this metaphor that when a rocket ship files into space, it sometimes loses pieces of itself to alleviate some of the heaviness that weighs the rocket ship down. By letting of pieces of itself, the rocket ship is light enough to continue its journey through space.

I probably butchered that metaphor, but what I wrote is the gist of what I remember about this metaphor. When I heard this metaphor, it was in the context of losing people in our life, and how sometimes we lose people in our life because there were there for a season and a reason, and when that season is over, we let go for us to continue to go into the next part of our life.

I like how quotes can change meaning as you get older because of your experiences and perspective.

To me, this metaphor means that sometimes when you grow up, you also lose pieces and parts of yourself because you are evolving and that heaviness is no longer needed for the rest of your journey. I also think about how flowers shed its petals to make room for new petals to grow. Like most things in life, we have to let go of parts of who we are in order for new things to surface and grow. Because if we do not lose pieces of ourselves, there is no room for greater and better things to come from it.

Change is also so natural because everyone changes. We are never the same person from when we are a baby to now. I mean, the core of who we are is probably the same, but there are so many pieces that we subconsciously do not even realize are shedding from us because we are constantly evolving. I do not even think that I am the same person who I was a year ago, and if I asked myself a year ago who I think I would have been now, I would have never ever ever fathomed that I would be where I am now and who I am now.

And that’s bonkers to me because it’s only been a year—365 days. That seems like a lot of days, but also not a lot of days for a person to change so much. But there are 365 days with 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes, and 31,536,000 seconds—-that is an abundance of time to let go of pieces of yourself to make room for the new.

I know I have been growing up, I mean, I think we all know we are growing up. I am in my early twenties, which many say is a pivotal time in a person’s life where the most change happens. I believe that. But I feel like I have grown up the most this year with letting go, finding myself, and becoming more comfortable with being independent. Also, feeling more proud of myself in doing things I never thought I would do.

Pieces of myself I think I have let go of is being hard on myself, not wanting to feel sad all the time, letting my loneliness consume me, or letting my anger make me resentful. I also feel like I have had less time for things I love, which is a hard truth to ponder because I do not think those are pieces of myself I have lost, more so just haven’t made time for. Starting this blog post, I will admit, was like getting my wisdom teeth pulled out sans medication. I have not wrote a blog post in five months prior to starting this. I haven’t wrote many things prior to writing this blog post because work got busy and consumed every part of my day. Life got chaotic to the point I felt like a blinking cursor, not too sure where to start and scared that my words would not be good enough, so I never tried. It was the fear that I wouldn’t be the same writer I was five months ago that has kept me from picking up a pen or logging onto platforms that made me feel the most me. But this blog post felt like a tradition I wanted to do, so I started to type. The first night I typed this, I wrote, and deleted, I wrote and deleted. Then I laid on the ground in an overdramatic fetal position, berating myself for not having the same prose as the writer I was last year. But the thing is, I am not the same person I was last year. I did not have the same experiences or time to write and that is okay. I think we fluctuate and shift as we grow older with the things we love because of the time we have to do things we love. It’s freaking hard to find time to do things you love, and no wonder most adults are sad all the time because we don’t give them the time or space to just be human beings to pursue other things besides work and money.

I mean, that’s how I feel now that I have a job.

I miss writing. I miss blogging my feelings about books and life in general. I miss reading books and enjoying it.

I have been in such a huge reading slump since this summer—-reading books but never fully getting into them or enjoying them because in the back of my mind, I’m thinking about work or what I have to do next. I’m really just going through the motions of reading because reading is like a second home to me where I used to go to whenever the real world got hard or I needed an escape. But the last few months, I felt like I have been reading because it’s just something I do. I don’t want to feel that way about reading. I want to enjoy reading a book again and to feel something from what I read. To be quite honest, I love a romance book—-absolute would cry for a romance book—-but there are just some romance books that sound the exact same and have the exact same kind of storyline and plot, that a sis wants some depth!!!! Not to roast any author and I understand that tropes and arcs are the same for a reason, but I just want some depth to a story rather than two people falling in love. You know some angst, some family drama, some drama in general, some deep seated message.

I want to make more space for those parts of myself that I have been neglecting because as much as I think growing up means losing parts of who you re, I also believe it’s making space for people and things you have always loved—-to not lose what makes you you despite how busy life can be.

Love is Everywhere

As a hopeful romantic, it’s easy for me to have always believed that love was only romantic.

But something that came to me this year was how much love was everywhere.

There is love in what you do. There is love in what you say. There is love in the way you treat others. There is love in the way you treat yourself. There is love in the way you hold the door open for someone. There is love in the meals you cook to share with others. There is love in thinking about someone and reaching out to them. There is love in the way you make time for others.

There is love in everything.

Love is not just an emotion you have with someone to share a kiss, hold a hand, or be intimate with.

Because love does not have a capacity, love is endless.

I never realized how grand love was until I thought about how much I love what I do and the people in my life. I didn’t realize how much love I already have without having felt romantic love.

And when I thought about how much love I already had, I have never felt so full.

Of love.

Love was always there.

Love was everywhere and in everything 💗

💕Favorite Memories 💕

Surfer Strong

This favorite memory is a continuation of last year and my student teaching experience because the school year runs differently than a normal calendar year. But student teaching at the elementary school I taught at will always be the most special and beautiful experience I could have never dreamed of. I am so appreciative to have had the experiences I did at my student teaching school with my students because my teaching experience allowed me to grow more as a teacher and a person. Working with kids is the most gratifying experience because, for the most part, kids are not judgmental and they embrace who you are. I felt welcomed by the students I worked with and they made me feel the most me I have felt than I have in probably a decade. Without the openheartedness of these students, I would have not find the confidence I knew I always had to be a teacher.

I am also appreciative of the school in general for welcoming me in.

There was a stigma about my student teaching school because it was in a certain community where people had financial struggles or lived a different lifestyle. Whenever I told people where I student taught, there was always this sort of negative empathy or curiosity of, “Oh, how was it?” that rubbed me the wrong way. Because honestly, the school I taught at was like any other school, even better if you ask me. They had modern technology, the staff was super supportive and kind, and the curriculum was cohesive and taught in a practical way. I don’t know why people always had a negative connotation to questions or statements about the school I taught at when they hadn’t been to the school to know how great a school community and school it was in general. Heck, if I were to teach at another school, my student teaching school is definitely in the top three of where I would teach because of how wonderful the school community and education at the school is.

I just think people are so quick to judge something when they do not understand it or they have not had experience with it. Because if the people who spoke to me only knew how much love and heart my student teaching school had, they would not have been so quick to feel “bad” for me. I am beyond grateful to be surfer strong because my student teaching school was the first place I actually felt like a teacher and believed I could be one. My student teaching school also felt like a second home after driving there for so many days, taking in the majestic and ethereal view every morning and afternoon; my student teaching school felt like home for all the people I loved and moments I had created out of love.

The memories, experiences, and people I met will always have a special place in my heart.

I mean, how does one forget one of the most transformative and best experiences of their life?

The Hardest Goodbye

Words cannot fully describe how my heart felt like it was excavated out of my chest when I had to say goodbye to my first ever class I had for a full year.

It was the most painful, hardest goodbye I was unprepared for.

I knew I was gearing up to say goodbye to these students who I had known for a whole year—each day a countdown until the last day of school—but when the moment came, it was like a shovel dug into my heart out of nowhere.

I was gutted.

Absolutely gutted.

I will always remember that feeling when I watched the students walk away into the distance, knowing I would not see them again for a long time, or maybe ever because I had no idea when or if I would be back at this school or where these students journeys would take them. I knew some of these students were moving states and others moving schools, and it physically hurt to contemplate the idea that this was the last time I would see them. It was the moment when this one student who kept asking me for hugs throughout the week and keep saying he was going to miss me, walked away. I watched him walk off to the bus, and all I could think was how I wanted one more hug, how I did not fully appreciate the hugs that he gave me the entire week until his arms and being was far away. The tears threatened to surface, as I schooled my features into a smile because teachers are not supposed to show that they are human. Watching this student and all my other students walk away, was the most inhuman feeling, the most out of boy experience like my heart was walking off with them.

I could not keep it together when that final bell rang and all the students had left. I mean, I tried to hold everything together and I would say I did a pretty stellar job because I did not cry the tears I wanted to. However, witnessing people you love walk away from you, not knowing if you will see them again and knowing that they will grow and change and go through life without you to watch the beautiful and amazing way they grow up and the people that they become, is such a heartbreaking feeling.

I have been with 15 students for a year—-some moved, some were gone for a while, and some were new but felt like family still. I learned to laugh with them, dance, sing, create, and be. I learned to be a teacher with their endless patience and compassion for someone who was a student teacher wanting to make a difference in children’s lives. I learned how to be comfortable with who I was again and was given the space and the lack of judgment to do so. In turn, I cannot even begin to say how appreciative of how they let me into their world and their hearts to trust me to teach them. I loved all the moments where they would come up to me to talk about the most randomest things they were excited about or to share things that were funny or personal. I loved whenever they would come to me for help because it highlighted that they trusted me. I loved when they were given small group time, they chose to sit by me because I made them feel comfortable or safe. I loved when they would draw me pictures or ask me to play certain songs because they felt loved or like they could share who they were. I loved the gradual way they eked into my heart from me walking onto campus and them not really saying hi to me or coming to me to waving at me from their school bus or coming up to hug me whenever they saw me leave the office. I loved the way I would see them in the morning and they would say hi or they would take the time to talk to me and I them. Those were my favorite moments because it was ours.

And all those beautiful moments would not have happened if I had not created relationships with my students and if I had not chose to love them. I loved and love each and every one of them, and I think about them often.

I also think about how cool it felt to work with students who were not even in my class and how hard it was for me to think about leaving them as well. It’s so weird to have created connections with other students who I did not even help, but I felt a deep connection with.

That day, my last day at my student teaching school, my heart broke in pieces. But those pieces were not scattered to the wind or broken in vain. They were broken so that every piece had a home within my students because no matter where they are or where they are going and no matter who they become, I hope they know they are loved and forever supported by me.

The hardest goodbyes happen out of love, but it always leaves you with more love than pain for the memories you shared and the lives you touched.

Thank you to B-14 for being the best students a student teacher could have asked for. And thank you for helping me love again and find passion in what I do.

Finishing College

Haha, last year I wrote I hope that I graduate college next year. Here I am to tell myself that luckily I did 😂.

You are looking at a bachelor’s in education girlie. Well, you’re not really looking at me. But she is degreed and ready. Not like the deodorant degree, but you know what I mean.

I have a college degree.

Because I GRADUATED.

Who would have thought the last four years would finally amount to something?! I mean, I did, but when you’re going through college, it feels endless, especially in a pandemic.

My college experience was nothing like I ever envisioned it to be, and it was nothing comparable to anyone else’s college experience. Not only did I go through my last two years of college in a pandemic, I graduated in a pandemic too. For that, I am proud of myself because the last few years brought upon such darkness that it never felt like there was going to be a lining. But this, graduating, felt like one of the very first linings to better days.

My last few years of college also was the toughest. I burnt out a lot more than I even realized—-constantly obsessing about making every work perfect or spending too much time on things that didn’t need an extra thought. I questioned if I still wanted to follow the path I thought I always wanted because things felt so bleak and I felt so tired; I didn’t know if the exhaustion I felt was worth it in the future if this was how I was going to feel for the rest of my life. Everyday felt like a blur that I didn’t know what I did most days or most months. I felt like I was surviving rather than living, and there is no life in that.

To graduate was the alleviation I never knew I needed so badly—-to let go of the weight of every academic perfection and expectation of myself and others.

When I walked down that stage, it was nothing like I dreamed it to be. I thought I would feel this elated high like they show in movies of someone walking in their cap and gown to shake some random dudes hand and receive their diploma and everyone would cheer and it would feel like you were on top of the world. I walked down that stage with all my classmates who wanted to walk in graduation. I shook a random dudes hand. I got a generic diploma, and all I felt was relief.

Relieved that I no longer had to grind myself to the bone to make something of myself.

That within itself should have felt joyous, but I was just happy that tiredness was done. I still feel tired in a different way now, but that’s for a different reason.

Higher education is its own level of exhaustion.

I was also going through a lot at the time that I didn’t fully enjoy my graduation.

But I did it.

I knew I could gradate, but again, it’s one thing to know something and to acutely reach the finish line and go through it.

Do I regret anything in college? No.

Would I have done things differently? Yea, for sure.

But was my experience much different than others? Heck, yea.

But it was my experience to have. Although college was not what I thought it would be for me, I do believe I got the experiences I needed to have, and gained wisdom in what I needed to take with me afterwards.

Here’s to all my classes of 2022.

We did it.

We made it.

Making My Lifelong Dream a Reality

I kind of spoke about this at the top of this blog post, but this was the year I made my lifelong dream a reality.

That is the wildest, most unbelievable sentence I never thought I would write.

Because when your’e younger, you have all these dreams. Dreams can change and life can happen and then you slowly think that your dreams might not happen because you can’t control what happens. So to write, let alone live, the dream that I always had, is the surreal. It’s absolutely surreal.

The way my dream was brought about was surreal too.

Leading up to making my dream a reality, I was panicking. All my cohort friends had a job position already or had offers lined up and here I was not even having any job offers and it was already the end of April, early May. I mean, I had one possible job opportunity at a school I interned at in high school. I texted my mentor about any positions at the school and she told me there was a third grade positron and to message the principal. which I did. However, it was too late because the position had already been filled and the only other position was fifth grade. Because I felt like I lost out on this job opportunity, I felt like my opportunities were becoming limited.

Job offers for teaching usually come out around June, but I hear that’s mostly for new hires because veteran teachers can transfer of move positions at a school, so new hires get filled in. I didn’t want to be filled in. To be honest, I was going to wait until this June job fair because that’s how my other friend got hired, however, the thought spiral ensued because I had no job prospects and I was worried all the good ones would get taken. So I started to look through the job openings at schools that I thought would be a good fit for me and grades I preferred. Unless you are a teacher, not many would know that you don’t get to pick the grade you want to teach and have to go with the grades available. I always thought you could pick your grade, but it makes sense that that can’t be the case because some grades are already filled.

The school that was my dream school only had an upper grade position and kindergarten position. I didn’t want to teach upper grade, but also kindergarten seemed to low for me in the sense that I like to work with students who know a bit more. That’s not to say kindergarteners aren’t smart, it’s just they don’t know much going into school and they are so young that having a conversation with a five year old is vastly different than having a conversation with a seven or eight year old. So I wasn’t turned on by teaching kindergarten, so I looked at other schools for grade levels I would be okay with teaching.

I looked for schools near where I lived because I knew I didn’t want to drive far to teach. Many of the schools near me had upper elementary job openings, and a sis would most likely not teach upper elementary because I would get trampled on by upper elementary students—-physically and emotionally. My choices were starting to dwindle because many schools did not fit what I was looking for. There were some schools that fit what I was looking for—-lower elementary and nearby—but they were schools I have never been to to know the school community. School community is everything because if the workplace environment sucks, then it will feel sucky to teach at that school. I also looked at the breaks. One of the schools that I was leaning towards emailing the principal had a track system still. I didn’t realize this school got no summers, and a sis needs her summers to recuperate. So that school became a hard no.

It seemed like there were no schools that fit what I wanted or were right for me. I went through a spiral of feeling like I wasn’t going to have a job lined up that I would like because I was so picky. My brother told me something though when I was on my job hunt. He said, “That sometimes all you have to do is get your foot in the door. You can’t be picky about what you want because you have to start somewhere.” When he said that, I nodded my head solemnly. I knew that I couldn’t be soooo picky and that I had to start somewhere even if ti meant at a place or a grade level I might not like. When that sentiment sunk in, I was like, “He’s right.” I can be selective, but I also can’t be so rigid in what I wanted. I could always transfer schools and grades one day. But I had to start somewhere.

So I circled back to my dream school. I messaged a friend asking about tif there was any other open positions at this school, to which she sent me the list of openings. It was the same positions: kindergarten and fifth grade. Then I messaged my mom who is friends with the wife of my second grade teacher who still worked at my dream school. I asked my mom to ask her friend what the principal’s email was because the principals email wasn’t on the school website. Through some online digging and texting, I got the principal’s email and drafted an email that I was shaking in my bones to send. Sending this email would make everything real. But I also knew that I could not wait around to send this email because someone might take the kindergarten position and then I truly wouldn’t know what I would do.

On April 29, with shaky fingers and a palpitated heart, I sent the email that I had no idea would change my life.

I went into student teach that day and tired not to think about if the principal responded.

But that morning, like an hour or so after I sent that email, I got a response.

A REPLY!

I FREAKING SCREAMED (silently) behind my mask and was jumping (metaphorically) in my chair. No one could see, but I was the cow over the moon, the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow, the sunshine after rain. I had no idea what to do with myself. My heart was racing as if I had run a marathon and then did a thousand cartwheels.

For one, I was just surprised I got the right email. Two, I couldn’t believe she responded. The email said if I wanted a job interview that Monday. It was Friday.

Then a new sort of panic settled in. I had three days to finish my teaching portfolio and practice interview questions for quite possibly the biggest interview of my life.

Let’s just preface this to say, I have NEVER had a real job before. I know how fortunate I am to say that because I know many need to get a job to support themselves during school or growing up, but my parents still supported me. I also never had a real interview, just mock interviews during high school.

This was my first interview for a big girl job. I was petrified.

I had three days to not be.

That weekend, I printed and finished my teaching portfolio. It was a whole ordeal for me to go to Office Max and spend time formatting and printing all these pages to make a portfolio look nice. I had to put them in sheet protectors. I also had to practice to myself multiple questions I thought I would be asked. I asked my mentor for interview questions to help me practice. I was really in professional mode to prepare myself tor a moment that could change my life. I didn’t tell anyone about my interview except my mother and brother because I needed my mother’s help and my brother lives with me so he would know. But I didn’t want many people to know just in case things didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would.

The day of my interview, I went into student teaching, but it was like a meeting day so I didn’t have to teach. Good thing because sitting at the meeting gave me time to decompress. But during that meeting my student teaching friend and I had a conversation with one of the grade level coaches about where we wanted to work or teach. My student teaching friend already got an offer to teach second grade—the grade we were student teaching. I know in all my story telling, you might have asked yourself why I didn’t just try teach at my student teaching school? Well, my student teaching friends already got jobs lined up with the school in second grade and kindergarten that there were only upper elementary positions left, so I didn’t think to ask if there were other positions open. I told the coach that I didn’t have any offers lined up, but I had an interview today. I didn’t know how the interview was going to go, but I would be interested in teaching at my student teaching school. There were a lot of ifs that response.

But lo and behold, because I voiced an interest in teaching at my student teaching school, who gets called to the principal’s office?

Me.

The principal at my student teaching school called me in to offer me on the spot a teaching position in fourth grade—-upper grade. You already know my stance on teaching upper grade—-I just don’t feel like right now upper grade is my forte. But what really made me sweat was how the principal wanted an answer then and there. I literally could not give the principal an answer because if my interview went well at my dream school, then I would know my answer. But if that interview didn’t go well, I would know my answer too. And I didn’t know what would happen at that interview and I didn’t want to say yes to a job prospect for a grade that wasn’t my favorite choice, and also I didn’t want to say yes when I didn’t give this other interview an opportunity. I felt a lot of pressure in that moment, like the world sat me down in front of a heated lightbulb, begging me to choose.

I couldn’t.

I felt like I let the principal down that day by not jumping at the offer.

But how could I?

It’s not like I didn’t want to teach at that school or wouldn’t want to. But how was it fair of me to say yes to a job when I had an interview for a job I actively sought after?

It wasn’t fair.

It also wasn’t fair for the principal to call me after school to ask for my social security and personal information so the principal could get my hire application ready. I felt that was presumptuous. With all my feelings on high—-feeling nervous, like I let people down, confused—-I teared up after school in front of my mentor because I was overwhelmed. I had so many life-altering decisions to make and I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t so much I was turned off by fourth-grade at that point—I mean, I kind fo was but if I had to teach fourth grade, then I would—-but I was turned off by feeling like people were expecting an answer from me when I didn’t know or have one and I wasn’t sure what was right.

It felt way too fast.

Then as I was leaving for my interview, the coach came up to me and offered me a different position to teach third grade instead of fourth. That changed things a lot more too. Because if my interview didn’t go well, I now had a third grade offer, which I feared less.

But I still didn’t know.

I cried on my way to my interview, but I also tried to pull myself together to smile and be calm and collected.

Driving to my old elementary school as an adult, parking and getting out to interview for a job, was a dram within a dream. I hadn’t been back to my elementary school since I left, and it felt smaller or I was bigger—-probably both. But I still felt that magic of what that elementary school meant to me. Walking into that office felt like I never left.

The minute the principal came out, it felt so natural—-so right. I didn’t even know that we were interviewing or that we were in an interview, rather than people catching up and getting to know each other. What’s crazy is that I knew the principal from when I was a student there. I knew she was the vice principal at the time because I remembered she would always wear black or navy and had this pointed heels. But I knew her, and she hadn’t changed one bit. What’s crazy is the office ladies hadn’t changed one bit either. They were the same office ladies I remembered being scared of as a kid. Wild.

We walked back to all the offices and places I didn’t get to explore or was not allowed to explore. I felt like I was finally let into the cool adult world of my elementary school. Then we actually started the interview in this big conference room that I had no idea existed. Most of the questions were questions I practiced or felt like they were going to ask, so I felt prepared. What I didn’t feel prepared for at all was when the principal offered me the kindergarten position on the spot.

Like literally, I was sitting right there on a cushioned blue and purple chair when she casually just said, “I would like to offer you the kindergarten position.”

I mean, what do you say to that. I didn’t know what to say to that. “Yes, you honor.” 😂 “It would be my honor.” “H*** yea!” I mean, what do you even say to that.

I think I said something along the lines of, “Yes, of course, thank you.” I was trying not to freak out on the outside but gosh knows I was throwing up and combusting on the inside. I don’t know how I sat in that chair without screaming or jumping or falling off of it. I don’t know how I was able to contain all the over joyous energy exuding from my body. Like hiding my excitement was a feat within itself.

I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!

WHAT WAS LIFE!?!?!?!!??! WHAT IN THE WORLD!??!?! Like on the spot?????I thought I was going to have to wait a couple of days or a week for a response? But on the spot?!?!?!?!?!?

Who even does that?

I did not expect that at all.

Nope.

What made the whole moment more surreal while looking back on it was how the principal wanted to fill another kindergarten position and didn’t end up hiring anyone because she was selective about who she chose to hire. The fact that she chose to hire me and hired me on the spot, is the most surreal and gratifying feeling and experience that I can’t properly form words about. She hired me.

Why?

I mean, I’m thankful she hired me—beyond words—but she hired me.

Me.

That’s crazy.

She was even talking to me like she had already made up her mind that she was going to hire me because before she offered me the job she asked me if I would like to shadow a kindergarten teacher and if I was available for all these trainings, to which I obviously said yes because if I said no, maybe she would have been like “she’s not a team player already.” She also told me during the interview how she is a big believer in telling students to go out and use their knowledge to make something of themselves, and then to come back and help your community. I believe she saw something in me—-not to sound egotistical—that I was someone who did exactly what she believed in. I cam back.

I left that interview that day feeling weightless, boundless, scintillating.

I didn’t know what the ground was. I didn’t know where my heart was.

I screamed in the car for a good minute. I drove off, not fully comprehending what had just happened.

My dream felt like a dream too good to be true.

But no.

It was a reality.

On May 2, 2022, it was official.

I was going to be a kindergarten teacher at my alma mater elementary school.

Living the Dream

I truly was living the dream.

In most respects.

Because honestly, the way we dream things to be ins’t exactly how it turns out to be.

Ever since May 2, I felt like life has been fast forwarded into adulthood. I now had my first ever job where I was going to have my first ever pay check.

I was going to have my first ever classroom that I got to decorate and I got to have my first ever class—-so many firsts that I was grateful and excited for.

I will never forget being invited to my first faculty meeting on May 9, that same week I got hired. I sat by the other new hires who could make it, and then the principal introduced us and all my past teachers or people at the school who knew me, were so surprised to see me there or hear my name. I was just as surprised to see so many familiar faces from my kindergarten teacher, second grade teacher, and fifth grade teacher. I also saw my reading resource teacher, my dance friend’s mom who was a teacher, my friend who was a teacher and just got hired last year, and other teachers who I didn’t have as teachers but remembered being teachers. It was surreal. I could not help but grin and feel my heart glow when my second grade teacher stood up and gave me a standing ovation when they announced my name. Granted, my second grade teacher always felt like family because he was my mom’s wife’s friend. He also was a big reason I believe as to how or why I got my job offer. Words cannot begin to express how much his support has meant all these years, and it’s wild to call him my coworker and not my teacher now.

I felt so awkward meeting my other grade level teachers because they were all older than me and could be considered my mom. Not that they aren’t beautiful women, but just at different places in life with kids and an established career. The previous teachers I worked with were all in their mid twenties or early thirties, so it was much easier to relate to them than my grade-level teachers. Also, I didn’t think they were expecting me as the new hire. I have been told I look like a high schooler. I mean, but high schoolers do be looking different from when I was in high school. I swear, kids these days do not go through an awkward stage and it’s unfair 😅. Being an awkward middle schooler and high schooler is a rite of passage, to be quite honest.

But I felt so WEIRD.

I was like, who are these women and what were there names again? Not going to lie, they lost me at lunch because they all went back to their classrooms and I didn’t have a classroom, so I didn’t know where they went. Yikes. But I felt weird because the whole day, they planned things I had no idea what they were doing. I don’t know, it was weird. But it had to be weird before it got better.

After that, I went to more meetings, I went to trainings all summer; Practically my entire summer was spent going to trainings. I had to go to a phonics training, first-year teacher training, some teacher day or something, and I was going to go to an ELL training but I had enough credits not to go, so yay. But I spent most of my time at school, meaning I got to know more teachers a bit more and feel less awkward in this new, bu familiar environment. The training were not the dream, but it still felt surreal to be there.

I also spent a week going in to decorate my first every classroom. Now that part was a dream.

Not many people can say this, but it was surreal—-surreal is the word of this blog post 😅—to decorate and set up my first classroom with my best friend I met in kindergarten. It was also surreal to set up a classroom in most likely the same room I met her in.

I wanted my other friends to help, but they were either busy or not feeling well. I was kind of sad when setting up my classroom because I had plans for my other family members and cousins to help but they got sick and couldn’t help. So setting up my classroom wasn’t what I dreamed it was going to be when I planned the week in my head because I thought I could have shared that moment with different people. But I am entirely grateful for the people who I did get to share my classroom set-up with. My best friend was literally the biggest help and I am beyond grateful for her literally climbing tables to rip down borders, put up borders, and tape paper with me. I don’t know how lucky I got to have a friend who would go through all the crazy and arduous work it too to set up a classroom, but she did it with me. We did it while we were freezing our butts off, but I wouldn’t have wanted to share the experience with anyone else. Also, it just meant the world to know that she was by my side like she had been throughout all these years. She has known about my dream for a long time as well, so to have her support and to be there to support me, made my heart filled with so much love.

My best friend is the best person out there in the world and I can’t thank her enough for always supporting me.

I also had to go in for kindergarten testing weeks before school started, which was sooooooo cute to meet all these young kids who had no idea where they were and why they were being tested by random people. I don’t remember going to kindergarten testing as a kid, but it makes sense why kindergarten teachers have to assess the students before school so the classes are divided fairly.

All of these firsts happened from May to July/early August, and all of it felt like a dream. I mean, some of these moments felt boring and like, “Why am I at another training?” But a dream. Despite the tedious work, I couldn’t have asked to have been a part of something that felt more right.

Writing this six months later after teaching for five months, every day has been like a dream, even the hard days. What helps it whenever I remember how grateful I am to work where I do and how magical if feels that my hard work had led me to achieving my dream. And that’s not something that can every make a person feel dreary or down about what they do—-to bask in the light of what you have been given the opportunity to do and chance to live.

What’s also been a dream is how I constantly walk down hallways or go to places that I had walked or been when I went to school at my elementary school. But walking down the hallways or at these places has taken on a whole new meaning and memory for me. I get the chance to be at a place I grew up loving, with memories of places and people I loved. But now I get to make new memories of this place I grew up loving, with new people and places that I can love.

And I think that’s even more surreal, how the old can renew and feel magical yet nostalgic. How lucky am I to say that I get to make new memories at a place I love?

It’s truly a dream.

Meeting my First Official Class

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, I had my first official class!

I mean, who in their right mind trusts me, a twenty-one year old (newly twenty-two) seventeen five-year olds to teach?

I mean, what is life?!

I can’t believe I had real students who were really mine who I was going to really teach.

No fake sticker charts of fake homework now.

She is real.

The process of creating a class is so strategic and wild that it always boggles my mind whenever I see teachers separate students between classes. I never knew that there was a process. I always thought students were randomly separated between teacher. I didn’t know that teachers put int thought about high students, medium, and low students, those with many absences, those with behavior concerns, ELL students, LRC students, etc. Being a teacher and seeing and going through the classroom creation process has got to feel like one of the coolest things ever. Also, one of the most powerful things ever because you literally have all the power to say where a student goes—-like you’re determining their future, which in essence, you are. It’s insane. I feel so powerful 😂.

But also it makes a lot of sense now when I think about how my best friend and I were separated all the time. These teachers were sneaky and said we had to separate the friends. I get it though for management purposes, but also like why would any teacher want to split up a friendship like that? If I was a teacher, and I man now, I am going to sneakily keep friends together 🙈. I mean, don’t do friendships dirty. I kid you not, my best friend and I were not in the same class since kindergarten until fourth grade. My fourth grade teacher did my best friend and I right by not separating us in fifth grade. Amen.

Haha, jokes aside I had my first class and I had no idea who any of them were.

I didn’t test the majority of the students I had, except one student who came late and felt out of it or distracted. He sang me the ABCs when the letters were out of order. But it was nice to know that this student knew his alphabet at least. That’s a great start. Little did I know this student would be my sweetheart later on.

The others? No clue.

I got the last pick because I didn’t have a preference, or I didn’t think I did and all the other teachers deserved to choose first because they had more experience and should have more say.

But I was terrified to not know who these students were and how I would vibe with them.

Then we had the meet and greet and I met the majority of them. All seemed like nice kids and were very cute. I will never forget when one student walked back after and said she liked to eat at Jolibee and lived near a Jolibee. It’s so funny to think about the students personalities when I first met them—-how shy and quiet and sweet they were—-and to know them now 😂. YIKES.

But let’s not forget when I got talked to by the vice principal and had the living daylights scared out of me. It was after the meet and greet, a teacher work day I think. You know, being the new teacher, it felt so much like a dream, I was scared that the rug would be pulled out from under me and it would no longer feel real. Like any minute they could fire me or see something wrong and I would no longer get to live this dream before I had a real chance to. So you could imagine how petrified I was when our intimidating vice principal comes to my classroom to talk to me about the meet and greet and what I said to a parent. I thought I was in trouble and like this was the moment the rug was going to be pulled out from under me. The arctic classroom wasn’t the only reason I was shaking. The VP told me this parent was concerned because her daughter had speech difficulties and I told this parent I didn’t have much experience with speech difficulties because it’s not like I was going to lie and say I did when I was a new teacher. So the parent voiced their concerns to the VP and the VP wanted to tell me that they transferred the student out of my class, which I understood because that parent was concerned about their child, and I would want that parent to do what that parent felt best about. I could not fault that parent that.

I was just so nervous that the VP came to talk to me because it felt like I did something wrong and I could be fired. That’s why I might have came across really shaken that day to the VP even if he thought I was a crier. But being a new teacher with all this expectation and pressure on you from others, most of all yourself, it’s a lot. I felt like I had a lot to prove to be there and to show that I deserved this job and opportunity. So it felt like I failed in some way or was wrong that he would come to talk to me. I know it wasn’t that and I wasn’t offended about the student who switched out of my class, I just didn’t want the dream to end. As someone who has had her dreams pulled away from her form multiple people on multiple occasions, I was scared. Terrified.

But I believe everything happened for a reason and as it was supposed to. I had fifteen students, then seventeen, and now sixteen. I have more girls than boys, which is weird because growing up, it was always more boys than girls. I have two behavior students who drive me nuts, one more so than the other. I have a lot of sweethearts who are so kind and compassionate. I have a girly girl who loves fashion and another who loves dinosaurs. I have a ladies man and a jokester who never fails to make me smile or laugh. I have a sweetheart who I never thought would be my sweetheart but he’s so kind, considerate, and a good listener. I have a lot of besties in my class.

I have a lot of social students and big personalities in my class for sure. Definitely had a crier in the first few weeks, which was this whole ordeal and another who threw a tantrum in the first months, which was a whole ordeal.

But they’ve settled down, but they have their moments. I mean, someone cried everyday besides me 🤪. Even if they drive me up a wall and are the most needy kids ever 🙈 (it’s the age), I love each and every one of them and I wouldn’t have asked for a more kind and fun class to have. Honestly, they have given me so much life again in remembering to just be a kid again with laughing at literally nothing or making random jokes or not taking things seriously. And that has been such a gift to learn and feel again—to feel liek a kid again.

But also, I feel like am mom most days. Gosh knows I’ve. been called mom, mommy, and grandma.

I never realized how being a kindergarten teacher feels a lot like being a mother though until someone told me how of course teaching kindergarten is going to be challenging because it’s like I’ve been thrown into motherhood and have seventeen kids to watch and take care of now. And not being a mother yet, yea, it pretty much has felt like I have been given these kids to love and care and I had no idea how to. I have slowly figured it out, and am still figuring how to care and love and teach my rambunctiously fun students, but I do love them with my whole heart.

They are my class and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Most days 🤪.

Putting Friends First

With letting go of a lot of the responsibility I felt with ensuring other people were happy then myself, I finally allowed myself to put the right people in my life first.

One of those groups of people being my friends.

Growing up, I always rushed to make friends my second family. I had birthday parties with my friends pretty early on—-at an earlier age than most of my other friends started inviting friends to birthday parties. I tried to schedule play dates, because yes, we called them play dates back then because that’s what you did—-you played on a day and made time for it. I just always wanted to be surrounded by friends early on for some reason. I don’t know if part of me knew that there was going to be a huge gap in my life later on where I pushed friends away and I was compensating for subconsciously knowing that there would be a friendship gap or I was just ready to grow up. Either way, I pretty much wanted to spend time with friends more than I wanted to spend time with my family. I think I felt like family life was already rough at that point and by having a friend there, I had someone to laugh with and actually feel happy being around.

But then things changed.

I pushed my friends away for a family that I wanted to cherish while we were still a family.

I don’t think any of my friends understood what happened back then because they never knew what I was going through—why I suddenly would say no to going out with them.

I was trying to savor the last dredges of what was inevitably going to break my family. When you know that you have limited time together as a “family,” you try to hold onto what you can. I did.

So I said no a lot.

In turn, I felt left out by my own doing. I felt angry and hurt whenever I would see my friends post them going out and laughing, having adventures, and creating inside jokes that I would never be a part of. I didn’t know if I was angry at myself for not going with them, angry at my family for making me feel like I had to savor what was left of being a family, or angry at my friends for not seeing how much I was obviously hurting. Maybe all of that. But I was angry.

I was so angry, and sad, because here I was with my family falling a part and they were out there becoming their own friendship family that I was being ripped out of by my own doing.

When looking back on the whole situation, I don’t regret spending time with my family before we were not a family anymore because I think I would have regretted not doing so more. However, I do think I should have let my friends in on more about what I was going through. But I was in middle school at the time, and at that age, you don’t think that anyone will ever understand what you are going through and everything is the biggest deal in the world. So I kept my whole family struggles to myself, and all my friends ever saw was a friend who didn’t want to really be a friend when that was far from true. I also feel like when you’re going through a survival tactic of not really knowing what is going on, you make decisions that will hurt one group even if you don’t mean to.

In high school, I also went through rough times where I felt like I needed to isolate myself even more. My friends didn’t know what I was feeling or experiencing already, so they didn’t know how much harder things were now—-personally and with my family. There were so many things I kept inside that they could not see—-they didn’t truly know me. By high school though, they had stopped asking me if I wanted to go out with them. I felt like I had finally turned invisible, like I was not worth the effort to try anymore. I guess there was only so many times I could say no before they got the message even if it was not the message I was trying to give. Because I always wanted to go out with them, I always did. But I never felt like I was in a place to be with them when everyone or everything around me was not okay. How could I have given energy to my friends when life was falling apart around me and I felt like I was the only person who could fix the sorrow of people who were hurt? How could I have given energy to my friends when eventually I had to take care of the hurt I felt within myself?

That was the hardest part too—-when I wasn’t okay.

I pushed my friends away even more so when I was going through the roughest moment of my life. I didn’t want them to see how much I was hurting myself with my ED because, again, I was at an even complicated age where I believed no one would understand what I was feeling or going through. So I didn’t tell anyone how much I was starving my body and over doing working out because I hated who I was. How do you tell your friends that?

You don’t.

Or well I didn’t.

I just hid it well by making sure that there wasn’t anyone around to see how much I felt like I was disappearing.

What sucked was I could feel myself slowly becoming less of who I was, and I had no one who noticed that something was wrong. I had a few friends who did see something different in me, but not enough to be concerned. I don’t know what’s worse: pushing people away because you’re scared that they can see what is truly bothering you or pushing people away and they do not see that you are hurting.

Part of me also pushed my friends away because I was not okay and I did not want to be around people when I needed to heal by myself for myself. I don’t know if that makes sense, but in my mind I didn’t think I should be around others when I wasn’t happy with myself.

So even more so, I isolated myself, especially in college.

I basically only had myself.

It was no wonder I fell into a depression my first few years of college.

I was still healing and working through every hardship I had been through since my family struggles that I felt all alone—-like someone came and excavated my heart—-and I didn’t know who to turn to or where to go because I didn’t have anyone left.

Because I was the one who inflicted that upon myself.

I pushed all my friends away until there was literally no. one. left.

And I did that.

I didn’t mean to, but I did.

All because of the trauma and hurt I felt growing up, and the trauma and hurt that festered inside me.

I had one friend who was really there for me even if she didn’t know what I going through. This person was my best friend, practically my sister—-someone who never mostly every single detail of what I have been battling for so long and never judged me for it and never walked away from the difficult conversations of break downs I would sometimes go to her for.

I always felt awful going to her because I didn’t want to burden her with all my burdens or make her feel bad for me. But when I had no one left, she was the one who stayed.

She was there through it all, and I don’t know if words can describe how grateful—more than grateful—-that I was gifted her in my life because I don’t know if I would be here without her.

So during my first few years of college, I had a few friends, but to be quite honest, they didn’t really know me. We didn’t have a deep connection because I didn’t let us have a deep connection even if I tried. I was still healing for me. Then the pandemic hit and I really had no friends because we were all isolated. As lonely as 2020 was, I had the most space to figure out how to heal. I thought at that point that I had moved on or healed through my battles, but I didn’t really until I was given the chance to think about my habits and mindsets to see that even then, I was not in the right headspace. However, I did slowly heal once I acknowledged that I was not okay. 2021 was about finding a place to grow again when there was so much darkness. 2022, this year, felt like I finally set roots in order to grow again, and gosh I hope I am not jinxing anything or sounding self-confident by saying that. But this year, I felt like I let go in order to heal, to actually figure out what healing means.

It’s so weird how healing can mean so many different things to you at different points in your life, depending on what you need. You can need to heal from heartache, loss, trauma, a bad day, or whatever you’re feeling, and no matter the situation, your heart needs different avenues to heal.

This year felt like breaking open in order to break free and heal.

By doing so, I opened my heart again to putting friends first after putting everyone else above them.

But how was I supposed to put friends first when I pushed them all away and didn’t have many friends anymore?

It was hard.

I started with my small circle of friends—-my childhood friends—-who I knew would never judge me and always be there for me. I went out with them first to try be social because gosh knows I don’t put myself in social situations and I haven’t in a loooooooonnng time. But I tried. Then I tried to go out with a friend from my cohort that I haven’t seen in months because I wanted to catch up with her and have human connection. I went out with two friends who I had a falling out with—-one of which hurt me and the other we drifted because I didn’t want her to see how much pain I was in. I was scared to go out with these friends because we never talked about our falling out, but it was nice to catch up with them and see how well they were doing because as much as I was hurt by one of them or sad I let one of them go, all I could ever want for them is their pure, unfiltered happiness because they deserved it. I no longer wanted to be hurt or to let them not see me. I hope I can catch up with them soon again because I miss their energy and their light—such great people.

I also went to a beach clean up for my friends birthday where I saw a lot of people from high school I missed. It really made my heart glow to be with people again and to not feel guilty or worried about other people’s happiness but my own—-my own happiness in being there at that moment. I also went out with my core group of friends for my birthday, which is a great transition for the next memory I am going to talk about.

But all this is to say, I really wanted to put connections to people I love first once I realized that a connection I had was unhealthy and who actually loved me. I believe all of these lessons I learned were pieces that clicked together that allowed me to create more for myself than I thought I could this year. And I am grateful that I have put myself out there to try to be social as uncomfortable as it has been for me because I’m not used to it. I also feel like I’m the type of person who has a social limit 😅. I mean, I like to be social and have a good conversation and good time, but after a while, I like my me time. But it’s been the most gratifying memory to make new memories with friends who I always love and hope to continue to put first.

Happiest Birthdays

If you know me, I have not had many great birthdays.

That sounds like the most despondent thing to say, but it’s true.

Sadly.

Unfortunately.

Grievously.

I don’t know. When I was ten years old, my parents told me I was too old to have a birthday party, so birthday parties stopped and I could no longer invite friends to celebrate.

I remember it was either my eighth or tenth birthday where my parents made me cry over the dumbest thing ever—they made me sob on my birthday. A sad sob, not a happy sob, a heartbreaking sob. Then I remember the next year, all I wanted for my birthday was to not cry. HOW SAD. I reminisce about my younger self who sat in the corner of her room before her birthday and spoke that sentiment out into the universe—I will not cry on my birthday. My heartbreaks for how at such a young age, I wanted the bare minimum of happiness on my birthday, a day that is supposed to be the epitome of happiness.

Here’s the thing that not many people probably realize, I’m a sucker for birthdays. I love birthdays.

Or I loved birthdays a lot.

I just felt like birthdays were a day—-the one day—that you get to be a bit selfish and be the star of the day. Your birthday was the day people had to be nice to you and people had to do what you wanted because it was your day. If they were rude or they didn’t do what you wanted/go along with what you wanted, you were scum of the earth 😅. I liked the ideas of birthday’s because they were the only day I felt like I actually felt seen, cared about, and loved. As someone who’s childhood was focused on the complications of my family and never feeling safe or loved in any space—because my family was broken and I pushed friends away—-I more often than not, felt like no one cared about me. I didn’t think people valued me because I was the last thought on their mind or I didn’t feel loved because no one ever showed me love that I could decipher as love. But my birthday? Oh! I would think that my birthday would be the day that I would feel loved because people had to love me—-that my worth was based on how many people showed their love to want to celebrate with me. I wanted to savor my birthday and always bottle the feeling of being seen and loved because I never felt that way the other 364 days of the year.

So birthday’s were a big deal.

But after I was ten, they hurt more than they showed me love.

I felt like the only person who wanted to make my birthday a good day was myself and my genuine friends.

I remember my sixteenth birthday, you know, the “sweet sixteen.” Looking at pictures from my “sweet sixteen,” I just want to sob for the girl who was obviously hurting so badly inside that no one could see past my bones and fake smile. I was in so much pain. So much pain that I couldn’t even see the happiness in celebrating being sixteen. My eighteenth birthday. Gosh, was that a sad day. I mean, I have had many sad birthdays the past decade, but my eighteenth birthday really broke my heart. My nineteenth birthday? Also, a kind of heavy day because I had lethargy, like really had lethargy to the point I felt like I needed to go to the doctor. My last birthday was okay, but I was so burnt out that I couldn’t fully enjoy the day either. I just felt tired and not great in my body.

But this year?

Words cannot even begin to express how grateful I am for the people in my life who made this birthday one of the best birthdays I had in a while.

I really had no expectations for my birthday this year because it wasn’t a milestone birthday like turning sixteen, eighteen, twenty, or twenty-one. Just another birthday. I honestly thought no one would care because one person in my life made it crystalline that he doesn’t care anymore.

But I learned a lot about the people who actually loved me the days leading up to my birthday and after.

My best friend wanted to surprise me by going out the day before my birthday because it was a holiday we both had off from work. But she included me in the group chat that was supposed to be a surprise. So I knew, but that’s okay. Because no one has ever gone the extra thought to even want to surprise me or do something nice for me on my birthday that her even thinking about surprising me already meant so much.

The day before my birthday, she picked me up and we did errands. I didn’t mind doing errand because I just enjoyed spending time with my best friend. I also like doing normal things with friends because we barely see each other anymore and it’s nice to do things together. I also just liked walking around the mall with her because we never did something like that before either. It was fun to gain her perspective as a shopper and for me to show her my world as a shopper—-I think people become someone else when they shop, not in a bad way. Btu you learn new things about how they see fashion or things. We also had some pretty open conversations that day too, which was nice because I felt closer to her. I just really valued spending a day with someone who wanted to make my day less lonely.

We walked the town and I saw the night life of a place I hadn’t seen in a while, or as an adult. It was wild, but so cool because I could experience the moment with my friends. We walked to the Apple store to fix my friends computer and then we walked to get matcha ice cream from this little ice cream shop I had never heard of. I liked the sense of adventure and like my younger self was smiling at me because I had finally become part of the picture. My best friend and I left early because it was getting late, and honestly, I was tired. The tiredness I felt was a good kind of tired—-the tiredness of spending a day with those who I loved and made me feel loved and from doing something fun just for us.

It was the best kind of tired.

What really made me start to tear up was when my best friend gave me my birthday present when I got home.

I really wanted to sob.

Because I know my best friend, and the fact that she went through the effort and thought and money to gift me what she did, meant the absolute world. The fact that she knew me well enough to want to gift me something she did not need to go out of her way to do. I felt loved.

I remember that night when I walked in the door, I was smiling. I had never felt my heart glow so much for so long.

I had never felt that happy in a while—-not a happy for work or school related things—-just happy to have been present with people I am beyond grateful for.

I want more nights like that and more moments with my friends.

I want to make more birthdays and moments that leave my friends and other people feeling the way I felt on one of the best birthdays I have had in a long time.

And I mean that with all my heart.

With all the heartache and complications I felt this year, I didn’t know how much being with my friends or celebrating the way we did would mean to me until it did.

It meant the world.

Also, on my actual birthday, I cannot express the love and joy I felt from my students and being able to celebrate with them as well. I loved that one student brought me such a beautiful yellow, orange, and pink flower lei—–a lei that looked more than rough at the end of the day, but made me feel beautiful and smile the whole day 😊. I also loved that two fo my students brought me a gift when they absolutely did not need to—a plant, a water bottle, and a pillow. A mom even cooked me spaghetti for lunch, which was so cool but so sweet. I just never expected to feel all that I felt htis year on my birthday.

You know, it wasn’t a grand old party like I would see in vlogs or from celebrities, but those parties are not normal or real in my sense. My normal is spending time with people I love, enjoying the moments we have together—big or small. My normal is special in every way possible and I am so thankful for every person who made my day, and also just every birthday that has led me to this one.

Here’s hoping to many more 💕

Trying to be a Protégé Chef

Gordon Ramsey can keep his job because I am not a grand cook 😂.

I am, however, the epitome of the saying “anyone can cook.”

I am not the best cook, but I am burgeoning in becoming a better cook.

And that’s all that really matters, am I right?

I have made orange chicken from a box 😂. I can make Hamburger Helper from a box too. We love a boxed meal 👏🏼.I made lasagna and meatballs from a pack from Costco. I made fish sticks from a yellow bag. I mean, that’s cooking in my eyes because you’re making food!

Okay, okay, I will say real meals I cooked from scratch.

I cooked sun dried tomato brocollini pasta inspired by the one they used to have at California Pizza Kitchen but they got rid of, but I LOVED that pasta. So I decided, why not try make my own. I have also made beef stew where I had to learn the hard way how to cut beef and how bloody and red beef can be. I also learned that you can defrost your beef in the microwave 😅 if you are a dummy like me and don’t defrost your meat hours before cooking. I also learned how to make chicken long rice, taco rice, curry chicken, chicken katsu curry, fried rice (still not the best at, but working on), sunny side up egg, tacos, quesadillas, vegetables with meat, mabu tofu, spaghetti, and salmon. I can still learn a lot of new recipes, but those are just a few of the things I learned how to cook this year or knew how to cook growing up but never made them by myself because I didn’t have time to cook or wasn’t forced to cook to survive.

I learned how to shuck corn this year 😂.

That sounds sooooo weird and random and not like the biggest deal ever, but as someone who usually bought canned corn, I was proud of myself for trying to shuck fresh corn. I had no idea how fun it was 😆. No legit, I’m being serious. It’s really fun. I mean, you have to be careful because you’re using a knife, but it’s so fun.

10/10 to make a New Years resolution to shuck corn.

As much as cooking does take time now, I am also proud of myself for learning how to cook when I needed to. Cooking is not easy and always scared me, especially the idea of cooking meat because I knew you shouldn’t undercook your meat. But I like to think I can cook or I am learning how to be a cook. I also like cooking in the same sense I have always liked baking—-creating something from nothing. With cooking though, I actually eat more of what I make 😂. Also, I enjoy how methodical cooking feels with chopping and then putting things together in a certain order. I like how things come together, and nothing can’t be saved with a little garlic salt and pepper, but I could be wrong.

I think meals I want to learn how to make in the new year are more Italian dishes, some air fryer dishes (for when I get an air fryer), maybe more Mexican dishes, and definitely more Asian dishes like udon or ramen, maybe some tonkatsu, maybe some teriyaki chicken or something. We’ll dabble and learn.

Maybe then Gordon Ramsey will be shaking.

Feeling the Most Independent

All throughout this blog post, a running idea I have mentioned more than once is the sense of independence I have felt this year.

Again, I felt like the lessons and memories I have formed this year, coalesced into this bigger picture of being independent, being the most me I have in so long.

I felt the most independent when driving to work for 45 minutes and back everyday. I felt the most independent applying for my first ever job and getting my first ever job. I felt the most independent getting my first every pay check that I could deposit in the bank. I felt the most independent figuring out how to manage my money. I felt the most independent with learning how to cook. I felt the most independent with learning how to take care of house things like doing the laundry, loading the dishwasher, cleaning the toilet, and cleaning the shower 😅 (do not 10/10 recommend, I mean, yes, clean your toilet and shower, but not a fun experience). I felt the most independent driving to new places all by myself this year. I felt the most independent paying for the majority of my own things this year because I finally had money to do so. I felt the most independent by going out with friends rather than letting myself sit home, wondering where my friends were. I felt the most independent figuring out how to be a kindergarten teacher and how to do parent teacher conferences, family activities, and all the teacher duties I had no idea I would have to do. I felt the most independent speaking up for myself or having difficult conversations that I had been holding in.

I felt the most independent in doing things for me without expectations of anyone else.

I no longer felt like I had to live for other people to be happy because I was focused on what made me happy and what I wanted.

I used to feel so much anger because I wanted to grow up but didn’t know how or didn’t know if I could because I was scared of this person in my life not being okay.

But now?

I feel so much freedom in not being responsible for what should have never been my responsibility in the first place.

I can do things for me and not feel wrong for it.

I used to have this abyss in my heart whenever I sat by myself. I used to always crave company because I thought being independent meant being lonely.

If this year had taught me one thing also, it is that being independent does not equate to being lonely.

Being independent equates to being free, and what we do with that freedom is up to us—whether we let that independence be the best thing for us or we abuse that freedom to destroy us.

I know life will not be easy and that there will always be moments where I will feel dredges of that abyss spilling up, trying to make me feel lonely. I also know that there will always be moments of sadness, pain, and hurt because that’s just life. But I know from all the things I have endured, that I am not alone and that I am so much stronger because of all the things I have been through. And I know that even if I don’t feel it in the moment, that there is always that strength in me. I do not take that strength or power lightly or for granted. I am grateful for the strength I have gained because of the moments that made me feel weak.

🎞 To All the Movies and Shows I’ve Never, Needed and Wanted to Watch Before 🎞

Going into this next year, I really cannot tell you what I hope or expect, because I don’t want to have expectations.

I want to be.

I want to be happy.

I want to be peaceful.

I want to be loved and to love.

I want to live.

I want to laugh.

I want to celebrate.

I want to grow.

I want to be present.

I want to be.

Be.

Being.

Being: existence or the nature or essence of a person.

I think be-ing encapsulates well for what I hope to try do next year in living and celebrating each day and being the best person I can for myself and for the kindness of others.

I hope to also be at a place where I continue to learn who I am and to really relish in that person. I have always been my worst critique, and I think it’s about time I stop beating myself up and really celebrate all the things that make me me. I want to focus on what makes me happy and continue to do those things, or at least make time for the things or people who make me happy. I want to fall back in love with books and writing that makes me feel something. I want to paint and create again to express human emotion. I want to write again to give an outlet to all these thoughts I have but never tell. I want to continue to make connections with those around me, genuine connections.

I hope I can try put myself out there a bit more, whether that is with work, friends, or doing things that I wouldn’t have thought myself to do. I don’t mean in the romantic sense unless that is what is meant to be or what is meant to happen, but to really allow myself to grow and bask in the light of that growth rather than shy away from the light after so long feeling like I had to.

As a rom-com-smut-reading fanatic, I know I am a hopeful romantic at heart. But I feel like this is the first time I truly mean it when I say that I want to focus on myself. I don’t want to give effort or energy to boys when most time it has not led to anything but a heart of what-ifs and what-will-never-be. I have always been the kind of girl who had crushes on boys who have never liked me back or who have liked everyone else but me. I think there is only so many times you can go about liking people and that feeling never working out before you feel hurt enough to not like anyone that way anymore. I don’t know if I have reached that capacity as I am writing this, but yea, it has hurt to feel like most boys I have liked have never reciprocated my feelings or nothing had come from it.

I don’t want to feel that hurt again.

I also feel like a big part of me knows that most of my crushes were fillers to what I hoped would be love. Because I love love. I always have and I always will. I think love is such a unique and special bond and the most magical emotion—-and the most complex—emotion there is. I thought if I liked someone so much, they would notice me or like me back. But really I think I was projecting all my fantasies of what I wanted from a relationship on the most convenient boys around me, that most times I knew I mostly liked the idea of my crushes rather than the actual person. I mean, not that the person was bad or bad looking, just I knew in my heart that I wanted the ideas I had with them rather than them. That’s what I get for reading rom-coms.

But in all seriousness, I do feel like I am at a place where I want to like a person for who they are and I want someone to like me for who I am.

I don’t want to give time or effort to a guy who doesn’t notice me or who doesn’t want to take the time to get to know me. I deserve more. I deserve someone who looks at me and wants to know me and wants to be with me and wants, no chooses to love me. I want someone who things feel so easy with and natural that it doesn’t feel like a game or a chase or I’m trying to vy for this persons’ love and attention because I know that the right person will love me for me. I don’t want to be someone’s second thought or second choice or someone they just think is cute but doesn’t really want to talk to me or know me. I want a love that feels right and someone who feels like they choose me—-like they know me.

And I trust my gut and my heart, and I have never met someone who made me feel like they choose me. Not any of the crushes I have had so far. And it hurts, yes, to feel like I have not found someone who has made me feel like they choose me or who wants to know me. But I think it would hurt more to be with someone who did not love me and ended up brining me more hurt.

You know, sometimes we want something to work out so badly, that we have to convince ourselves of all the reasons it will work out until we are honest enough to say that it won’t.

I recently had a crush. I had a gut feeling, and I hope to convince myself that this person was shy or nervous when really, I never got any indication he liked me or that he wanted to know me. And I deserve someone who does.

So I really just want to be there for me next year and remember that I can be my own best friend and my own boyfriend, if you will. I read something on reddit recently, yes, Reddit, that really shook my core. It said:

“I think the solution is just learning to be that person for yourself. Validate yourself, care for yourself, and basically be your own boyfriend. Focus on your goals and the woman you want to be. Remember that everything you need, you already have within yourself. Become so confident in who you are, that when you see a guy you like, you know that he can’t give you anything that you’re not already giving yourself.”

And you don’t say Reddit doesn’t have good advice?

I absolutely loved what this person said.

I was researching how to stop liking guys so easily or something like that because I’m the type of person who forms crushes on people not easily, but just if I see them enough and I think they’re cute, then I like them and go all out in liking them. But again, those crushes have never gone anywhere. So I really liked what this person said in being your own boyfriend and knowing that you are so confident in who you are that you are giving yourself everything you need. I feel like I have always been so quick to like my crushes because maybe part of me hasn’t been giving myself everything I need or the confidence I need to be there for myself as I should be. So I really want to be my own boyfriend, if you will, this next year to really be at a place where I am giving myself what I need to continue to heal and be happy for me. I don’t wnat to focus on guys or love, but myself, and my happiness.

And having this feeling is another freeing emotion.

I hope to be much more financially independent.

This year I was figuring out how to pay for my own things, budget, and save money. But I did have to ask for help from my family. You know, there’s no shame in asking for help, especially when you’re starting out. I barely had any money, and suddenly had to buy groceries and pay for all my things. It was a lot. I struggled with knowing how much to save and spend—-I love shopping. I had to be honest with myself to say I couldn’t buy the clothes I wanted, nor the books I wanted. I haven’t made a book haul for six months and it sucks. But I am figuring it out. I hope that next year, I can budget my money better on groceries and things I want for myself because I really just let myself have a budget but no real plan. I feel like I have a better idea of what I want to do with my finances and that makes me feel better about starting over and really trying to balance money with living.

Another one of my goals is to take care of my physical health. I didn’t realize it was a thing until I was sick three times within the last three months. But I guess they say being a new teacher, you get sick easily, or more sick because of the germs and the stress. I lost my voice in September, I got sick in October during parent teacher conference week, and I got sick in November right before my EES observation. Yay. But my gosh, I didn’t know that new teachers went through the wringer like that. So I know I want to really take some vitamin C supplements and take time to check in with my mental and physical health to ensure I am okay because being sick is not fun, and I have probably felt the most stressed I have this year even if I haven’t felt like I have felt stress. I mean, my popping acne has been telling me a different story. But yea, I struggled with acne a lot more this year and I attribute it to stress and maybe hormonal changes. But acne definitely has not made me feel the most confident and it’s something I gratefully didn’t struggle with as much in high school. So to feel the acne struggles now, it has been making me feel insecure. So I want to balance my stress better with taking time for myself physically and emotionally.

Lastly, a goal for next year is to protect my peace and live in my happiness. That sounds like a basic goal, but after feeling like I had people who constantly hurt me or made me feel like their needs were more significant than my own, I finally just want to be happy for me. I know there will be moments where I will be sad and things will not be perfect. I know that there will be situations I do not know about because that’s life, but for the most part, I just want to be happy for me and find out what that means for me each day. To take life day by day and enjoy each day as best as I can. I want to make memories and have experiences that bring me joy, to go on adventures possibly to reinvigorate the wonder of life. I want to be there for myself and others in a way I never was. And I think it brings me a lot of love and wonder at what that means and what kind of memories I will make with those I love.

If someone asked me a year ago, where I would be I would have told them I would have graduated and have either been teaching or taking a break by working on writing projects.

I had no idea I would be where I am today, mentally or physically.

I had no idea I would have become the person I am today a year ago.

No clue.

And I think that’s the beauty of being gifted a year—-to learn and grow as a person and to discover new parts about yourself and life that we wouldn’t have dared to imagine or would think would come true. When I say this has been the most confusing year in terms of how I would describe it, I would say it has been the most confusing year. Because one part of me has felt the most hurt and broken by the things that were said and done to me by those who I thought loved me. I was very hurt in the beginning and middle of the year, but amidst that hurt, there were parts of my life where better things were happening. It’s weird how so much hurt can bring so much much light.

And I guess you have to be able to break in order to let the light in or to let room for better things to fill in the pieces that no longer suit you.

Broken light.

Because as much as I wouldn’t have wanted to feel the immense hurt I felt, I am happy I did because it brought me closer to a person I feel is the most me I have been in such a long time. I honestly don’t even know who I have the potential to continue to be, and I’m excited to learn more about myself and what makes me feel even more like a person I am proud of and who I felt had to be diminished for so long.

If my future self is reading this in a year, I would just like to tell that girl that I am incredibly proud of the way you carried yourself and got through this year. There were many moments we broke down and man moments we know hurt us, but through all that, you managed to keep going just as you have always done. You don’t even know how much strength you have within you from your experiences and how much compassion you have because of everything you know you would never want anyone else to feel. I hope you take the next year to genuinely focus on your happiness because you deserve to finally feel like you can be happy without craving sadness. You deserve to surround yourself with people you love, making memories that makes you smile or laugh ridiculously. I hope that you are falling back in love with the things that make you you because gosh knows we put everything that I like to do for myself last. I hope you also find a better balance with work because being a first year teacher feels like you are living on Google Slides and constantly worrying about if you are actually teaching your students something while also keeping them alive and well 😅. People always say the first year of teaching is the hardest and it is because it feels like you have no idea what you are doing and taking it day by day, hoping everything works out. I hope teaching becomes not as stressful for you and that you find more peace and clarity on what kind of teacher you want to be and how you can also be a human being.

I hope above all, my dear future self, is that you never forget that there is so much to hope for. You know, hope can be a very scary thing because if you hope for a lot or have many hopes, it can feel like a jinx or it can feel like all this expectation attached to emotions that might make you feel let down when they don’t happen. But I hope you hold onto hope in the sense that there are better and greater moments than the hard days you have and are going to face. Because life will happen, and people will try to make you feel inferior, but I hope you know that whenever you feel hopeless, that you look towards the broken light because there is light flittering in and you just can’t see yet how much that light will help you grow. I like to also think of the quote I read somewhere in how the best days are yet to come, and I do believe that. Do not lose hope that you will achieve the things you have dreamed of. I mean, look at what this year gifted us. What is meant to be for you will be for you, trust in that. Trust in yourself.

Trust that there is hope and love.

And just be.

Thank you 2022 for allowing me to grow. Thank you for also showing me love when I couldn’t not find it. Thank you 2022 for gifting me freedom to be honest with myself to grow. Thank you 2022 for also being the year my life changed forever by letting me live my dream

Here’s to another year where I have no clue what will happen or who I will be when I read this a year from now.

As always, with love,