“How do you know that you’re on your path?
Because it disappears, that’s how you know.”
– David Whyte
The 20s are a highly documented time in our lives.
From podcasts to posts to infinite films and songs documenting the process of being young, I feel, though, that not many come close to capturing the anxiety of indecision that comes with being in your early 20s.
I know to some that may sound dramatic or ungrateful, and I am grateful, of course, to be experiencing this part of life with my health and body still able to support me fully. But that doesn’t discount the parts of my mind that wander and wonder why a constant sense of inadequacy lingers, and the feeling of being stuck becomes a constant.
It seems that much of the media focuses on the late-teen phase of life. The end of school, post-structure, learning that your parents are human, kind of phase is romanticised and yes, appears hard, but at least then I was hurting for a reason. I was stressed, tired, or sad because things were ending: school, friendships, and life as I had known it were coming to a close, and something new was on the horizon.
Films like ‘The Edge of Seventeen’, ‘The Breakfast Club’ and ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ come to mind.
Now I am responsible for new beginnings in a way I wasn’t before. I have the privilege of choosing my path from here and lots of new knowledge in my brain from my years in the education system, but not the knowledge to see how to follow through, and a profound sense of fear around failing.
“The early 20s are for getting things wrong, for messing up, for figuring out who you are, for trying new things, travelling, exploring, loving.”
Can I simply exist instead?
Can I stay in one place without feeling like I’m wasting my life, or not feel dejected when others seem so put together, while I remain a mess?
It feels like an uphill battle against a rolling boulder covered in barbed wire. Because what is the right choice when you don’t know what you want?
Or when you know what you want on a grander scale, so anything less than that feels as close to failure as it gets without actually failing.
I finished University recently and discovered that the pride I felt in myself was mainly for surviving the experience. There were fun parts and moments of learning, but a large part of me felt a little disheartened by the fact that the stress and loss of sleep and pain of sorting through my own emotions weren’t that fun. It was hard. Most definitely a learning experience, and I am, of course, a very different person now with a better perspective on life. However, it was hard nonetheless, and I feel that it doesn’t get talked about as much as it should.
In a time where more and more achievements, education and qualifications are needed to even approach the job world and its overcompetitive nature, burnout becomes rife among us young people who mostly just want to find something we love and are good at without having to just survive all the time. Money becomes the goal, not the side-bonus, and we settle into these lives of necessity where we convince ourselves that the small moments are all the happiness we need.
So what if I want big happiness and wide open spaces and a job that both inspires and challenges me for the right reasons?
Isn’t that what being in your early 20s is supposed to be about, figuring out how to get?
Or are we meant to sit back and just obey when told that that is asking for too much?
Why is it unrealistic to look at the emotion and beauty of art and films, and music as models for an ideal life when those things were created by people who loved doing them, those who were inspired to create with love and meaning and reality in mind?
I watched a TED talk recently on how schools can kill creativity, and a part that stood out was when Sir Ken Robinson said:
“Academic ability has come to dominate our view of intelligence.”
What truly defines intelligence? I guarantee each person has their own opinion, be it the number of degrees on their wall, the ability to teach thousands or simply to paint a picture.
At University, I was taught to value intelligence based on a numbered grading system that was subjective to an individual’s view of a paper. That value was then something I came to equate with my self-worth and thus became my only focus. The spiral began from there.
Now I can see more clearly that I was wrong, despite what each deadline tried to force me to value, instead of myself, my health or my ability to see a future for myself. I control my self-worth, not a number.
I see now that my early 20s are filled with anxiety, but also with a capacity for so much hope and laughter, and excitement for a future I cannot see yet. I see that I have a capacity for loving something in my writing, knowing myself a little better through the words and phrases and photos I take, no matter how many times I feel like a failure or that I don’t deserve to pursue it.
It has taken everything in me to find that midpoint, and each day is a balancing act. Imposter syndrome is a close friend and confidant, and anxiety continues to take my voice as soon as I open my mouth. But what remains is quiet ambition that will get louder with time.
I will not always be in my early 20s.
I also didn’t stay 17 forever, even when I thought I would.
So I keep going. I keep dreaming and imagining this life where I work for myself and have the freedom to choose my happiness in big or small ways. I will write for the love of doing it and capturing the beauty of the outside world and the people in it.
I will keep getting out of bed even when I want to stay under the covers.
What matters is that we try. Because to try is to care about how we live our lives, and we deserve better than just surviving each day.
To those like me in the midst of incertainty, you deserve better than that and so much more.
It’s your first attempt at this part of life, so cut yourself some slack.
For Wanderers and Wonderers 