Love Letter To My Younger Self

As you drink your mango boba while studying for your high school senior finals, you’re listening to lo-fi cafe music. A sweet, innocent girl. On the outside, you look as if you have your life together.

When you were younger, you loved to color and were very careful to do it inside the lines. You wanted it perfect, no mistakes. Your lola gave you an A+ on the page, and that was when you started to need reassurance and validation.

Growing up Asian American, you felt pressure to be perfect: Don’t get into anything that will ruin your reputation; don’t be too thin and don’t be too thick; you have to earn love through your success and achievements; you have to get an education before marriage, but you will also feel the pressure of your parents wanting grandchildren right away.

“Look at your cousin! How successful!”

“You need to lose weight.”

But also, growing up, love was served in forms of food and acts of service. You might not have always heard the words of affirmation or emotional support, but there was still love. Your mom cooked warm sinigang (sour Filipino soup) on cold, snowy days, especially when you were stressed by schoolwork. Your dad drove you to school every day, especially so you’d be safe on rainy days.

You were always pressured by your parents and told you were not good enough, but you reframed it and thought: Your parents did the best they could, with the tools and knowledge they had. You don’t have to earn love. You already deserve it.

Success is not just a form of money. It’s also joy, love, and peace. Growing up as a mixed Asian American, you wanted to have more typical features, speak Filipino, and be in that Asian group that was cliquey, but your college was a predominately white institution.

On social media, you posted your success and achievements to try to feel validated, but as you changed over the years, you shared personal insights on what college was really like. On the outside, you were always busy, had an event or club meeting to go to. You held leadership positions for Asian Pacific American student organizations, you were always around people, and you felt like you were in the right direction, surrounded by the right people. There were good times, good people, and good lessons.

But inside, you were miserable, depressed, and, honestly, when you promoted mental health awareness, you weren’t doing those good things for yourself. You ended up in the hospital with suicidal thoughts. You were later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, ADHD, and OCD by a professional psychiatrist and went on a long road to recovery. Your mental health journey was not just through medicine, but active participation in therapy and taking it seriously. Remember, healing isn’t linear. But you achieved it through community, self-care, your faith in Christ, and reminding yourself of progress over perfection.

College didn’t give you post-grad dreams right away. In fact, the jobs you had sucked and the job market sucked. You still sought validation from others, academics, and achievements. Your inner child needed healing and to recognize her inner value.

Eventually, you started to realize the word “no” creates boundaries, even if it makes people upset.

The American dream portrays that you must have it all, a rat race honestly. It’s like you have to have a social circle and a high-paying job, get married, hustle, and then bam, you’re burnt out, overwhelmed, maybe in debt, and so damn tired of it all. Was this what you wanted or is this what your parents wanted?

Instead you learned from therapy, life experiences, and journaling: It’s OK to take breaks; you took a semester off. It’s OK to fail; you failed five classes, you were rejected by jobs, and you were rejected by boys. It’s OK to not have a big circle of friends; you have very few you talk to since college. Life is messy, especially in your 20s.

Distance from your parents helped you heal. You would be shocked to learn that you actually call your parents every day now and try to make as many visits as possible. Your mom felt guilt and you felt guilty, but you actually had more similarities, and communication and boundaries healed your relationship.

Now the fun parts of being Asian American. Let me break it down:

1. The food is elite: sinigang, boba, takoyaki, and hot pot.
2. Your community: You were very passionate about being involved in MAFA, MAASU, NAFFA, and Flypro. You went to conferences, workshops, galas, and retreats. You met some of your closest connections, personally and professionally, and watched some of them grow so much in their careers, faith, and journeys.
3. The knowledge and wisdom passed down from our ancestors: The American dream is not made through just hard work and resilience. There’s a systematic barrier. Instead, success isn’t about the end result; it’s about what you learned along the way. In times of destruction, create something.

Everyone’s stories are different, but finding bits and pieces of the story finds connections and creates a motive to do better for yourself and the world. You are enough. You have the pen to rewrite the narrative. Reclaim your power. You are worthy of love. Your parents always believed in you, your husband is one of your biggest supporters, and you are your biggest cheerleader. You love yourself because you are you — not the job you have, the amount of people in your life, or the things you have. As your dad called you his sunshine, keep shining. You’re doing great.

Love,
Your older self Anna

Cover illustration by Lisa Wakiyama.