They Said My Twenties Were It
They said my twenties would be it—the time of my life.
“Man, you’re going to look back one day and miss your twenties. Your twenties are it.”
I’m here to tell you, your twenties are not it. I am 24, turning 25 this summer. And I am exhausted. I am riddled with student loan debt. I am, still, under-employed. I am living at my childhood home. And it is a lot of things, with none of it being easy.
And I am acutely aware that these things do not exist in a vacuum.
I see that this is all occurring for me during a time of tremendous loss and pain for virtually 90% of the world’s population. I know I am incredibly fortunate, in so many ways.
But I am tired. And I am sad. And I do not love my twenties the way they said I would. I am ready for stability, for self-sufficiency, for someone to recognize that I am a valuable employee, that I deserve to be paid a livable wage (hint: it’s not $15 per hour), and that I deserve time off—and not just after a three-month probationary period.
I’m also aware that I’m asking for dignity and honor in a capitalistic system that doesn’t make room for either of those things. But is it wrong to expect decency? I don’t think it is.
I expect better. I don’t want this for my children. I want this feeling of being lost and undervalued to end with me. I don’t want a single other generation of young people to have to experience the crushing weight of debt, anxiety about employment (under-employment, or, more significantly, lack thereof), or fear of how to pay for health insurance and car repairs and a place to live in what is supposedly one of the wealthiest countries on Earth.
As a friend put it the other day, “This is not sustainable. You cannot continue like this.”
I guess I wonder, who can? How have we so far? Why have we? We can demand better. I’m more hopeful than ever before, having seen organizers pull together over the last campaign cycle with the utmost level of care and tenacity—as they always have.
Truthfully, I don’t know that I’ve got a point that can be succinctly boiled down. Truthfully, I missed writing. Truthfully, I miss me. I don’t feel like myself, and I haven’t in quite some time. I hope I make it back to me one day. I’ve been pretty damn patient.
But I guess that’s what life asks of us, yes? To keep coming back to ourselves. At the very least, to keep trying.
Try, I will. ❤
