If someone told me that they were in their 20s to my younger self, I would’ve thought they were so old. Not old enough for gray hairs and wrinkles, but old enough to know what adulthood actually meant. By the time you’re reading this, I will have turned 20 years old the day this article is published. And since I am turning 20 by the end of the month, I have realized that time is just a construct and how age doesn’t define who you are, yet the societal pressure to be perceived in a certain way—like you’ve figured everything out—builds one closer to a quarter life crisis. You feel as though you are under a microscope and everyone is watching you, waiting for you to prove yourself that you’re all grown up. So here are the questions I have for myself as I reflect on where I am now in my life:
Have I peaked or am I just barely in my prime?
What makes things even harder about being in your early twenties is how the media portrays it. Watching television that targeted teens to early adults at 12 years old subtly misconstrued my perception of what my own 20s are supposed to look like versus the reality of it. I didn’t get discovered at 16 and became a popstar like Hannah Montana, and I don’t currently live in a spacious apartment in New York City, with a big friend group who get coffee together every morning like Friends. Not to say that I am ungrateful for everything that I have been able to accomplish, but film and media has reinforced this idea that if you haven’t peaked yet, then you must have missed your shot. I think it’s especially true for this generation because the fear of peaking a lot of the times come from watching the trajectory of older generations: going to school, getting a 9-5, and then raising a family. This traditional path makes life more predictable, and the pressure of hearing older folks say things like “you’re only young once” or “enjoy it while you can” adds another layer to the fear of living in either resentment or regret. Hence, the term “romanticizing your life” gained popularity with the youth and on social media—always doing more with your ambition became the forefront of the mindset. This inevitably pushed us to somehow set the foundation for the rest of our lives—causing earlier burnout and the constant cycle of never feeling enough. Which explains why whenever I engage in activities for personal fulfillment (socializing, traveling, etc.), I feel guilty for not being productive and think about all the other things I should be doing instead of wasting my time relaxing. But whenever I do work on my goals, I think about everything that I could be missing out on, in the sacrifice of work and stability. It could feel like you haven’t done as much as the other 20 year olds around you, even when they’re probably just as lost as you are.
Am I living for myself or for others?
As I get closer to being in my 20s, I’ve noticed how others perceive you based on your decisions, making it feel like you’re being solely defined by your age rather than your actual emotional maturity. For instance, family and loved ones may just assume you don’t understand the weight of certain situations because you’re still learning and will “get it when you’re older”, but those same people might also say just to ”act like an adult and handle it yourself”. This contradiction makes it seem like you’re always either treated too young, or seen as too old. It was easier to attain a college degree, a job, and a house a generation ago, but now things have changed, and we’re growing up in a world that’s not the same as what the older generations once did. They are less likely to consider mental health, burnout, or inflation. When they see younger people changing careers or not settling down yet, they could interpret their decisions as being lazy, or “behind”. It gets even heavier when there’s a pressure to uphold a legacy involved, like for me. I come from an immigrant household filled with sacrifice as a first generation student, and the unspoken contract of dreams they’re expecting to be fulfilled on behalf of them giving you the opportunity to can be overwhelming at times when I struggle about decisions for my future. Overall, it is a good reminder to oneself that it’s not about how you don’t want to make your parents proud, but rather about how you’re trying to survive a version of life they may never have had to navigate.
So what now?
There’s a strange dissonance between what I imagined this age would feel like and what it actually is. We grow up hearing that your 20s are supposed to be the “best years of your life,” but the concept feels more like just another myth that society pushes, rather than a universal truth. We continue evolving as people beyond a certain age, as there is no universal timeline to “peak” at one while you’re still establishing your independence. I can either choose to let the weight of other people’s expectations control the way I live, or I can allow myself grace and make mistakes, even if that means starting all over again. Thus, just because I’m no longer technically a teenager, doesn’t mean my age solely dictates my capacity, knowledge, and experiences.
