“…everyone feels lost in their twenties, and I mean Everyone.” -BeauTee
Ah, my twenties. A decade painted in vibrant hues of independence, exploration, and…instant ramen dinners. Looking back from my (slightly less ramen-dependent) perch at 38, I see a time of immense growth, punctuated by moments of utter confusion and the occasional questionable fashion choice. (Yes, you business casual outfits at the club, I’m looking at you.)
My twenties were a whirlwind of “adulting” milestones: landing my first “real” job, celebrating the freedom of my own apartment, and proudly navigating the treacherous terrain of used car dealerships to buy my car. From the outside it looked like I was killing it but beneath the surface of achievement lurked a nagging disquiet. Was I where I was supposed to be by that age? Was I chasing goals I truly desired, or simply mimicking the script society handed me? The answer, my friends, was a resounding “nope.” So many of my original goals weren’t things I actually wanted. I was working towards things that really weren’t of much value to me which made me feel like I was wasting time and a failure simultaneously.
Couple that existential angst with the financial fallout of the last recession, and let’s just say my twenties weren’t exactly a walk in the park (more like a brisk jog through a minefield of overdraft fees). The pressure to have it all figured out, coupled with the constant comparison game among my peers, had me feeling like a deflated pool floatie adrift in a sea of uncertainty. It seemed like everywhere I looked everyone was doing much better than I was while I drowned in overdraft fees.
But here’s the thing I wish I knew back then: everyone feels lost in their twenties, and I mean Everyone. While I was drowning and comparing myself to others, those same people thought I had it all figured out. I realized then that perception was not always reality. The seemingly effortless success stories and carefully curated Instagram feeds(Facebook back in my day)? A lot of smoke and mirrors, especially in your early 20s. We’re all just figuring things out, one awkward social interaction and questionable life choice at a time. Everyone is cycling through a period of stress, anxiety, depression, or sometimes a combination of the three.
At 18 we’re pushed into the world and told that we’re “adults” but what does that even mean? Everything we’ve ever known gets challenged or chipped away by each new interaction. Most of us have no idea who we are, what we want, and what we’re doing at that age. One day the opinions and lessons from our family, friends, teachers, and coaches suddenly stops and we’re left to fend for ourselves. Suddenly we’re telling ourselves that we’re failing at life because we don’t have it all figured out yet (why are we torturing ourselves?!?).
So, here’s my message to all of the twenty-somethings having an existential crisis:
1. Chill. Seriously, chill. This is the time to experiment, stumble, and maybe even rock a terrible hairstyle or two. Embrace the mess, the confusion, and the inevitable ramen-fueled nights. It’s all part of the beautiful, chaotic journey of self-discovery. Question everything!
2. Ditch the comparison trap. You are not on anyone else’s timeline. Your path is unique, and comparing yourself to others is like trying to fit a square peg into a…well, you get the idea. Focus on your own growth, your own goals, and celebrate your own victories, big or small. Figure out what success looks like to you and not what society says it should look like.
3. It’s okay to not have it all figured out. In fact, it’s practically encouraged! This is the time to explore, to make mistakes (and learn from them!), and to figure out what truly sets your soul on fire. Don’t be afraid to pivot, to change your mind, and to rewrite your life script as often as you need. It’s never too late to move, start over, and reinvent yourself.
My twenties definitely weren’t sunshine and rainbows, but they were a crucial stepping stone on my path to self-discovery. So, to all the twenty-something adventurers out there, embrace the ride, laugh at the stumbles, and remember: you’re not alone in this beautiful, messy, ramen-fueled adventure called life.