Every summer feels like it should be the summer. The one where everything finally clicks into place, where I wake up as the effortlessly put-together chic girl who knows exactly what she’s doing with her life. The kind of girl who orders the nice cocktail without debating if it’s worth the extra $5, who pays her credit card bill without feeling like she’s being personally attacked and who doesn’t spiral into an existential crisis every time she opens LinkedIn.
Unfortunately, I am not that kind of girl.
Growing up, I watched my parents work incredibly hard, and that work ethic naturally transferred to me—osmosis, maybe? No, seriously. Ten-year-old me, obsessed with the idea of being a grown-up (I literally have never been chill), thought that’s just how life worked. You keep busy. You push forward. You get things done. And while I love throwing myself into work I actually care about, it’s also meant I’ve met burnout more times than I’d like to admit.
When I arrived at university, I had zero clue about what I wanted to do. And while I still feel like my brain is a browser with 37 tabs open, I finally feel like I have some direction. With that, I’ve also gained the horrifying realization that adulthood is coming for me whether I’m ready for it or not: and this year, the internship search has felt less like an exciting career adventure and more like a stress-inducing game show, with the grand prize being employment and the consolation prize being financial instability.
I’ve had more coffee chats than I can count, and one thing is clear: a traditional 9-to-5 isn’t my dream. At least, not long-term. I want flexibility and creativity; a job that doesn’t make me feel like I’m selling my soul for health benefits. But also… I like money. And stability. And not having to live with the fear that AI will make my career obsolete before I get my first big girl paycheck. So I overthink. And then I overthink some more. Suddenly, it’s 2 am and I’m lying in my bed debating whether I actually have any professional ambition or not. Unemployed philosopher, maybe?
At the same time, I’m in my twenties. I don’t want to spend all my time obsessing over productivity and LinkedIn optimization. I like being lost in my 20s. I want to travel and create art and live (is there a sustainable way to make money off that?) but every time I try to embrace it, I feel guilty—like I’m falling behind in some invisible race where everyone else has life figured out and I’m just running to keep up.
So how do I stay present while constantly chasing the next thing? What’s the perfect ratio of being a hungry shark but also taking it easy and enjoying the moment? How do I know if it’s all going to work out?Â
Asking for a friend.
At the end of the day, it all comes down to your choices. To no one’s surprise, I am terrified of making the wrong ones. Willa, my lovely editor, pointed out that even though I may feel singular in this feeling there are many people out there who are in the same boat as me. That is simultaneously comforting and unsettling at the same time. I don’t know, maybe I should just run away to a little island in Spain. Surf. Eat good food. Pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.Â
I’m so close to doing it. Sooooo close.