A Letter to My Younger Self - I Am…Five Years Later

In the autumn of 2021, I started university with romanticized expectations of where I was going. I graduated from an International Baccalaureate High School Program during the COVID-19 pandemic. This time was a re-entry to a world where one had to decide how they would live with the hidden truths exposed during the solitude of quarantine. My experience was a renewal of life: choosing Graphic Design as a practical way to have a career in the arts, desire for the ‘quintessential college experience’ full of community and stories to tell, and a determination that I had my life plan figured out.  

Now, five years later, I am nearly two classes away from graduating from a different university with a completely different outlook than when I started. I don’t have it all figured out—that’s the only thing I have certain. And I’m starting to be okay with that. After all, the story doesn’t end here. It is just the beginning.  

At my first university, the First-Year Experience class was a requirement for all freshmen starting their undergraduate programs. This assignment was intended to reflect our identities. The grand old question society liked to pose: Who are you?  

There was something about this assignment that I resonated with, and now I realize was the beginning of a life-long journey. As the typical type A planner and over-achiever, I spent an entire weekend recording and collecting videos to compose this video. I resurfaced old projects and speedily drew 2D animations. When I was asked to share my video with the class, I said yes. I thought I was on the right path towards what I wanted.  

What is even the ‘right’ path? It took me nearly all five years to accept that I wouldn’t have a ‘normal’ college experience. I didn’t make lifelong friends. I didn’t have a good experience living on campus, rather I ended up leaving my first college after two years due to the toxicity and its effect on my mental health. I transferred to an online university program, which brought upon its own challenges and grief of in-person opportunities. Artificial intelligence and the hardest job market crept up on me as graduation loomed like a long-lost promise that wasn’t guaranteed. I moved cross-country, hoping a new place would be a fresh start and had to reconcile with all I experienced. (And trust me, I experienced a lot.)  

If you know anything about who ‘I Am’, I value authenticity and growth. I still carry the hope and wonder that the young artist held with the maturity that comes with time and experiential wisdom. The great joy of experimenting, of learning and unlearning, and in due time, creating to aid others in their journey of sharing their light with the world. These epiphanies sculpt intentions for how I want to move forward in my career. The wisdom I would impart to this young Anastasia and to you, dear reader, would be this:  

You are on the precipice on a big, bold, beautiful journey. The climb to one summit has left you at the bottom of the valley of another. This mountain will be treacherous. There will be moments you stumble on shaky rumble. There will be moments when you lose your way. You will question why you chose to climb, why you keep climbing. There is no turning around, stepping down. There is no way backfrom which you came. Yet, you will feel the sun warm on your skin and know it has come a long way to reach you. You will see the distant range of evergreen trees and appreciate the life that you thought the desert dried. You will experience the seasons. You will come back to yourself again and again and again. You were never meant to go back to who you were, unchanged. One day, you will realize there was no mountain. There was just you.  

My parting message remains the same from the original film: “I wish to tell stories such as this one or those of others to inspire you to be the best version of yourself. We all are a magic worth discovering, and I hope that one day, even if it’s not today, you feel an overwhelming joy and pride in the stories that encapsulate your complex experience of this world.” Thank you for taking the time to read this reflection.