Reflections on Being 20-Something

I remember being in my 20s (it wasn’t thaaat long ago) and feeling pulled in so many different directions. It felt like I had to have it all figured out, but also stay young, have fun, and enjoy every moment. I felt like I had to choose between being who I wanted to be and being who people wanted or expected me to be; disappointing them or disappointing myself.

There were moments when I couldn’t stand my parents and hated the fact that I still needed them. I also remember feeling like I was so much older than I was, because I’d been forced to grow up too fast, too soon. The weight of my past and the pain of my childhood felt heavy, and I struggled to find people who could relate to what I was experiencing. There were times I felt totally connected and totally alone.

I remember the high-highs and low-lows of friendships and relationships, the gut-wrenching feeling of heartbreak, betrayal, and learning about myself—whether I wanted to or not. There were nights I couldn’t remember and nights I wished I could forget. I struggled with the shame of crappy decisions, and the guilt of good decisions that prioritized my wellbeing and left some people behind. College was confusing—what to major in, what to do with my life, how to get a job—it all felt overwhelming. And then there was the constant battle with body image—comparing myself to others, trying to fit in, never feeling good enough, or feeling like too much. The self-doubt was always there, like an annoying sibling that wouldn’t leave me alone.

But out of everything, what I remember the most were the mentors who made all the difference. The people who supported my process, listened to me without judgment, helped me untangle the messes I made, celebrated my wins, and stayed by my side through the highs and lows—I can’t say I’d be where I am, and who I am, without those people—and one of them was my therapist.