Most sitcoms and movies geared towards millennials have shown that our 20’s are the messiest part of our lives. It is a time where we try to figure out who we are and who want to be. An era where we make the worst financial and career decisions in order to find the best ones. Although, many of these shows and movies puts a lot of pressure on timelines. Because it means that when we’re 30 our lives should already be on the right track. As if after 29, everything magically falls together. You have the perfect apartment, financially stable, and the person of your dreams standing beside you.
We’ve all imagined our grown-up lives would finally fall into place once we turn twenty-five. Sadly, that’s never the case. Most of the time it feels like we’re all pretending to be adults as we struggle to pay rent, have a fulfilling career, and keep an active social life. We are plagued with the pressure of career greatness and happiness.
Name one millennial right now who isn’t posting their #hustle life right now. Social media has made it worse. The curated feed feels like a slap on the face. Everyone on Facebook and Instagram are announcing engagements, career advancement, and baby number three. Then here I am, back home planning to go back to school.
Am I an adult yet? Why am I not happy? Why am I not doing something I’m passionate about? It feels like I am not meeting the social expectations of an adult.
When I turned 20, I created a list of milestones I would accomplish by the time I turned twenty-five. Fuck, I bet she’s disappointed right now. Then there’s 30 creeping up. Yes, I’m fully aware it is five years away but the number sounds terrifying.
Thirty sounds like the end of the road for most 20-somethings. I’ve spent most of 2020 reflecting and recalibrating plans to meet some sort of deadline of being an adult. Because in my head 30 means my life should okay. By the time I am 30, I should be a fully-functional adult with a bank account and a wonderful relationship.
I placed a note under this outline saying, “put something hopeful and that you are doing better,” and I am not. It’s already March and this post has been sitting in my drafts since the first week of February. Honestly, it’s been an eventful two months of figuring out what am I supposed to do in life! Like I need to be on some sort of path before the middle of 2021 and have a good idea of what 30 should look like to me.
Before 2020, I had a good sense of self. Yes, I would question most decisions but every single one of them were related to one goal. There was already a path I wanted to follow. Now, I’m wondering where I am in life and how do I get out of it. I’ve written several blog posts about how it’s normal to be unsure of your future and you shouldn’t rush.
Yet here I am, rushing like a mad man. Procrastinating to-do lists, avoiding productivity, shaming myself for the lack thereof, and then working to the point of early burnout. It’s a whole rinse and repeat. All because I have no actual idea what I want to do and am afraid I’d still feel the same when I’m thirty.
I want to end this blog post with something hopeful but I need a little more time. Time to stop feeling sorry for myself, time to heal, and maybe reflect a little more.
Decisions like this should never be rushed. Thirty isn’t a scary number. The only thing that frightens me is if I am still in the same place by that time.