The Truth About Growing Up

I got my first job at 15. 

At the time, it wasn’t about money — it was about freedom. I just wanted something that was mine, a reason to get out of the house, something to do that didn’t involve being stuck in the same cycle every day. I didn’t realize it then, but taking that job was the first step into adulthood — way earlier than most people around me. It became a blessing in disguise. Working helped me build my resume early, gave me skills that made transitioning to the real world easier, and taught me lessons no classroom ever could.

Through sophomore to senior year, I juggled part-time retail jobs. During the summers, I picked up extra work — anything I could find to make a little more money and keep myself moving forward. By senior year, right before one of the biggest changes of my life — moving from Hawaiʻi to northwest Minnesota — I had two jobs: part-time retail and full-time as an assistant preschool teacher. At the same time, I was trying to get ready for college and figure out what "real life" was supposed to look like.

When I finally moved to Minnesota, everything changed. I didn’t have any of the comforts I grew up with — no family nearby, no familiar faces, no familiar streets. Just me and my partner, trying to make a new life from scratch. It was exciting but terrifying. And honestly? The first two months were brutal.

The truth is, I could’ve had a job sooner. I actually got hired by three different places when I first moved — but every time, I pulled out. I withdrew my applications after getting accepted because deep down, I was scared of putting down roots. I was scared that if I stayed, if I committed to something here, it would mean I couldn’t easily go back home. I needed time to figure out if I was really ready to be this far away from everything and everyone I knew. I needed to give myself the option to leave, even if it meant struggling in the meantime.

So I lived off the savings I had built over the past few years. At first, I thought it would be enough. It wasn’t. Between paying rent, groceries, essentials, and tuition (I pay for school completely out of pocket, minus a small $1,500 scholarship — and trust me, I'm still beyond thankful for that), the money ran down to literal dollars.

I started panicking. 

Every day without a job felt like I was slipping further behind. I applied again, this time knowing I had to commit. In October, I finally landed a full-time assistant preschool teacher job. That was a huge relief — but getting a steady paycheck didn’t magically fix everything.

Behind the scenes, I was struggling. 

I’ve dealt with depressive episodes for a long time, but moving here made it worse. In Hawaiʻi, I had access to therapy and a little more stability. Here, therapy isn’t affordable for me right now. And without it, there are days that feel unbearably heavy. There are nights where I question if I made the right choices. I show up every day for work, for my classes, for my life — but some days, it feels like I’m running on fumes.

And if I’m being honest, sometimes I imagine a different life — A life where I went to a traditional four-year college, lived on campus, had roommates, took morning classes, and maybe picked up a work-study job at the library or something chill. A life where I wasn’t constantly checking my bank account, stressing about rent, or trying to balance full-time work and full-time school all at once. A life where growing up could have been a little bit slower, a little bit softer.

But that’s not the path I chose. And even though it's hard, I remind myself: everything I’m doing now is setting me up for something bigger. I’m building independence. I’m learning resilience. I’m learning how to handle real responsibilities — not the ones they tell you about in school, but the real ones. Like keeping yourself afloat when no one else can fix it for you.

Growing up isn't as pretty as they make it seem. 

It’s messy.

It’s lonely.

It’s heavy. 

But it’s also powerful in ways I never expected. And maybe that's the part no one tells you — that even in the moments when you feel like you’re barely keeping your head above water, you’re still moving forward.

I don’t have it all figured out.

 Some days I still grieve the version of life I didn’t get.

 But I’m learning to be proud of the life I’m building — even when it’s hard, even when it’s not perfect.

 Because at the end of the day, it’s mine. And that counts for something.

With ʻUhane, From Me to You.

ʻUhane Hawaiʻi.