At 22 years old, I thought I would have it all figured out: I’d have the job, the car, the degree, the guy, and possibly the best closet in the world. Little did I know that my early twenties were going to be the turning point where I’d have to battle who I was and who I wanted to become. From 18-22, I hit almost every major milestone. I’ve experienced heartbreak, accomplishments, times when I felt I wouldn’t grow into anything, and worst of all, battling my own comfort in the present to push myself to a higher place for my future.
It was around 20 years old that I became almost too comfortable being mediocre. I was average at school, average in my health, had almost no discipline, and was battling with severe laziness. Sometimes I believed it was because I was just too burnt out from juggling a job and my schooling, but I looked around at others who were in the same position, if not worse, getting up every day and choosing their future rather than “just 5 more minutes of me time.” I had no motivation, I had no drive, and I believe it cost me everything for the next two years. Insecurity started to get the best of me, and I convinced myself I was so low that even calling myself “nothing” would’ve been generous. Even worse than this, I spent those two years letting other people’s actions convince me that I was right to feel that way.
At 21, I started to find comfort in the destruction. I tried to fit into places I never needed to be in and tried to convince myself that if I could only be better for certain people, I would feel like I was finally worth something. If I could only get them to see my worth, then maybe I would see mine. I succeeded (barely) for about a year. The month I turned 22, I had lost all of the worldly things I fought so hard to keep from falling apart. I was empty inside, and I was almost certain I had lost myself forever.
It wasn’t until I woke up one day and realized that I didn’t even want to get out of bed, and I didn’t. I stayed in bed for about 3 days contemplating my life and trying to find a reason to get up, to eat, and to choose me. The rest of that semester was a blur. I felt like I was on autopilot, no thoughts, no feelings, and an immense weight on my chest. When it was time for me to head home for winter break, I practiced my smile and indifference in the mirror for about three hours. When I got there, I was greeted by nothing but joy from my sister, nephew, and mother, who hadn’t heard from me since I facetimed them, crying about how I had almost failed my test, blaming it on “hard curriculum.” After a few days of reuniting with my family, I started to realize that I had a purpose. I had an obligation to myself. I had given so much of my energy and love to things that may or may not have been there for me for the rest of my life, and I neglected the one thing that would be, myself.
​I don’t want to leave the impression that from that day forward, I suddenly became a powerhouse. The next few months were very slow and almost torturous. I kept trying to find excuses and distractions for why I wasn’t going to start on just any given day. Over those few months, what made it even harder to transition was the final blow to everything that had already fallen apart in my life.
After days of overwhelming myself with what I needed to do while my work and school piled up behind me, I decided I was just going to start slow. I would make a list of things I wanted to change and slowly check them off one by one. I decided to make a rule that I didn’t have to be perfect, I didn’t have to be super consistent, and I definitely did not have to shout it from the rooftops to hear others’ opinions on what I was doing. I wanted everything to come from me. I started by keeping up with all of my homework and turning in stuff on time or even before. After I saved up some time, I decided to start my health and fitness journey. I started to make time to cook meals and work out little by little. Once I got a hold of that, I decided to start implementing even more niche things into my routine that I used to love but had forgotten over time as I grew up and got busier.
​At almost 22 and a half, I still am nowhere close to having it all figured out, but starting with a routine has been an amazing first step. I still have no idea what is going on with the rest of my life, and while still anxious about it, I think I’ve learned to be okay with the unknown. I’ve learned that worrying, contemplating, and overthinking are the barriers that create negativity in my life, and by redirecting my thought processes, I get excited by all the possibilities. 22 is definitely the year I stopped surviving my life and started building it, when I learned that growing up isn’t about having answers, but about learning to live with the questions.