When I was younger, I was more proactive. In university, where I studied creative direction, I had no patience for people who weren’t giving it their all—those who just drifted through life, partying and doing the bare minimum. I wanted to become someone, to be recognised, to get to the top despite all the hurdles, and to scream from the top of the world, “I did it, so you can do it too!”
In my twenties, I co-founded a graphic design studio, applied for internships at top brands without hesitation, spoke my mind, won awards, gave lectures, and was even flown to Mexico as a guest speaker on trends and innovation in the footwear industry. I created a magazine with a friend and found a printing place where the owner kindly printed three free samples so we could pitch them before committing to a budget. I felt unstoppable. All this before the age of twenty-seven.
At twenty-three, I was hired by my dream brand, and it truly felt like a dream to work for a top name in the fashion industry.
Then I started to live the dream, and it soon began to drain me. I grew up, learned when to stay quiet, suffered the consequences of stepping outside of my job title, and realised that the fashion industry thrives on breaking people down. The dream turned out to be a nightmare.
In the midst of it, I went on a volunteer trip to clean up beaches choked with plastic and waste in the Maldives. We had workshops in the mornings, learning firsthand from experts about the devastating impact of our consumer habits on the oceans. Then, we’d spend the afternoons cleaning up the beaches, followed by snorkeling in deep coral reefs and turquoise waters. For someone who had been drained of all her energy, I felt ecstatic!
When I returned to the office, all I could see was waste—including the products I was creating. Even though I still love fashion as a craft, I felt a deep rejection of the industry and its practices.
At the time, I had no idea how to quit after years of effort and sacrifice building a career in fashion. The thought of leaving sent me into a panic—I couldn’t imagine what my life would look like outside the walls my colleagues and I called the golden jail. But staying was becoming unhealthy. All I knew was that I wanted to travel, to keep exploring the world and seeing what was happening beyond those walls.
By 26, I felt lost, insecure, and exhausted. The toxic women I worked with could have told me my name wasn’t real, and I probably would have believed them. I suffered from burnout and insomnia—the years of low-key bullying had chipped away at my self-esteem. I lost the momentum I had in university, and when I finally quit my job, my confidence and self-worth were the size of a peanut.
Social media took over and I stopped reading, writing, and crafting. I shifted into what I call “follower energy”. Don’t get me wrong—I love rooting for people. I love to share, cheer, and support. But when did I stop sharing and cheering for myself? In my relentless effort to always be the best at what I do, had I somehow turned into The Follower?
For a brief moment, drifting through months of unemployment trying to figure out my next steps, I believed that theory. I thought that I was one of those tragic stories of people who peak early in life, doomed to spend the rest of their days as an underdog.
Last week, I fell ill like I hadn’t in a really long time. Fever, shivers—the works. I found myself yearning for adventure and trying to soothe the urge with nature documentaries. In my feverish haze, nothing felt more enticing than swimming with whales and schools of fish. The kaleidoscope of colours and emotions found in the ocean—a sense of purpose helping communities and marine life. So, in my fever dreams, I started dreaming up a new path.
In my free time (whatever that means), I want to prioritize trips that allow me to teach others about the risks of an unhealthy ocean. I want to help people find alternatives to reduce their impact. Most of all, I want to use my camera with purpose. I’m drawn to the beauty of people, nature, and the things that connect us. I believe an image can help us understand the consequences of our actions in parts of the world we may never see—and also, the vast beauty of foreign cultures and landscapes.
I want to bring depth to my work, to speak with knowledge and confidence about a subject as I once did, rather than skimming the surface like all the tabs I leave open in my browser, never quite reaching the end of any of them. I’m starting to gain clarity. Traveling brings my values to life—it allows me to connect with the things I love. I’m no longer driven by any industry’s idea of success.
This month, the optimistic blue of Madrid’s skies is back. I’ve been noticing how I fall into certain thought patterns that hold me back—self-sabotage, self-doubt, self-image. But something has shifted. Maybe my dreams aren’t so unattainable after all. I can feel that “founder” energy I once had coming back.
People say “trust the process”—a phrase I don’t particularly like. But maybe it’s time to trust that what I’m doing is leading up to something. And that something doesn’t need to be figured out just yet.
Have you ever made a career change? How was the experience for you? Did you pursue your dreams, or are you still sitting on them? What’s stopping you?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
If you are new here—hi and welcome! You can start by reading my welcome post here.
The Epiphanies was my last newsletter.
This week I launched Travel Plans—a newsletter about travel recommendations and personal anecdotes from my own travel experiences.
The image in this newsletter is from our 2019 trip to Da Lat, Vietnam. You can read the adventure here.
Let’s connect on Instagram for Substack updates and travel photography! You’ll find me at @anansuetravel
Take care of yourself and don’t catch a nasty flu like I did.
See you in the next one!
Ana.
Keep doing what you’re doing Ana. You’re writing from an authentic place.