Are you married? Have you bought a house? When are you having children? Do you have a job yet? Fresh out of high school, these questions incessantly linger in the recesses of my mind. Eighteen going on nineteen should not instill such profound fear, yet it does. The weight of societal expectations creates a daunting abyss, one from which I cannot extricate myself. At what point do I cease to resist the preordained timeline, the relentless ticking of life’s clock?
My parents wed in their early twenties, welcoming my brother in their mid-twenties and me in their late twenties. They discovered each other at the age society dictates I should now be finding the love of my life. But in this modern era, how is that conceivable? The expectation to “slide” into someone’s direct messages in a futile attempt to initiate an ephemeral talking stage feels hollow. Marriage, homeownership, parenthood, career — the world demands answers to questions for which I have none. Even at eighteen, I feel as though I am lagging behind. My friends are in relationships, possess stable jobs, and I struggle to keep pace.
How can I possibly keep up? I still sleep with a stuffed animal. What about that suggests I can keep up? I break into a cold sweat merely trying to book a hair appointment. What about that implies I can keep up!
The truth is, I am likely just frightened. Yes, I am terrified of my twenties. I am an almost nineteen-year-old, unemployed, single, virgin who clings to a plush toy for comfort.
Yet, perhaps it is permissible to be afraid. Perhaps it is acceptable to feel unprepared for a future that everyone else seems to have meticulously charted. The world has evolved since my parents’ youth, and the paths they tread are no longer the sole routes to a fulfilling existence. The pressure to adhere to a certain timeline can be paralyzing, but the reality is that life does not adhere to a one-size-fits-all approach. Each individual’s journey is unique.
It is easy to glance at friends who appear to have everything together and feel as though I am falling behind. However, everyone grapples with their own struggles and insecurities, even if they do not outwardly display them. The truth is, comparing my internal anxieties to someone else’s external facade is an exercise in futility. I am still evolving, still learning, still discovering who I am and what I desire.
So what if I sleep with a stuffed animal? It provides solace in an often overwhelming world. So what if scheduling a hair appointment induces anxiety? It is a minor aspect of life that I will eventually master. I do not need to have all the answers at this moment. It is permissible to take small steps, to proceed at my own pace, to be gentle with myself as I navigate the transition into adulthood.
Being apprehensive about my twenties does not signify failure; it signifies an awareness of the challenges and uncertainties that lie ahead. It means I am invested in my future and strive to make judicious choices. It means I am human.
As I approach nineteen, I will remind myself that it is acceptable to lack complete certainty. It is acceptable to feel lost at times. Life is not a race to a predetermined destination; it is a series of experiences that shape my identity. I will learn to embrace the unknown, to trust that I will find my way, and to believe in my capacity to surmount the obstacles before me.
Ultimately, what matters is not the speed at which I achieve society’s milestones, but the authenticity with which I live my life. I will continue to grow, to explore, and to uncover what brings me joy. And that, more than anything, will define my journey into adulthood.
Take your fucking time.
