INTROSPECTION
If you could relive your 20s, would you make better decisions?
My 20s were a wildfire.
Fanned by bold, ferocious arrogance and idiocy. Contained only by God’s grace and a little luck.
I tried my hardest to self-destruct. I burned bridges with matches of resentment and self-righteousness, just for the hell of it.
In my free time, I poisoned opportunities with rattling self-doubt.
I sabotaged relationships.
I was a corpse, destroyed by my own decisions, taunted by regret and fear of inadequacy.
An audience of people peering down from the balcony seats of my life, assessing my story through the opera glasses of social media, assumed they knew what was best for me. They projected their expectations.
When I complied, they labeled me successful.
When I refused, they labeled me insubordinate.
My life was a slow gas leak, shutting down my organs, only detectable in stillness. In silence.
I had the things people said I needed.
I slept in a bed next to people other people said I should love.
I bought the house because they said homeownership was the goal. I bought the car because they said nice things drown the memories of poverty and I didn’t want to feel poor anymore.
I did everything “successful” people do and none of it remedied the emptiness I carried with me like a tattered bear from childhood.
I did everything other people told me to do. I trusted their feedback more than I trusted my own voice. I became someone I didn’t recognize.
I moved across the country at 30 because I had two choices- give up or start over.
Starting over felt like the only reasonable option because I needed to find out who I was without an audience, a cheer section, and mentors* who confused me with hypocritical lectures and scriptures used to justify their prejudices.
*Mentors shouldn’t make you feel inadequate, incapable, or trapped. If anybody in your life makes you feel guilty when you exhale without their permission, run.
If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t relive it. I wouldn’t erase it either.
It took years of shadow work to stop fantasizing about dying. It took years of reconstruction and retribution to create a life worth living.
I wholeheartedly believe I walked through hell to singe off beliefs that didn’t belong to me and burn off generational ideologies that hindered personal growth.
I needed to lighten the load and escape the coliseum of opinions echoing in my head. I had to lose everything just to understand the intricacies of gratitude and the benefits of slow living.
The journey made me more compassionate and self-sufficient. My scars aren’t pretty. But they’re mine. They are totems, reminders of my strength.
The woman I was, taught me everything I know.
- I know exactly what love isn’t.
- I found out codependency can resemble friendship if you’re not paying attention.
- I accept silence as a comrade, a necessary ally in the loneliest moments.
- I realize I am deserving of sustainable joy and a lifetime of laughter.
- I learned how to define success for myself.
- I know wealth is about quality of life, not collections of meaningless overpriced toys.
- I stopped treating God like a genie who grants wishes.
- I stopped relying on fear-inducing sermons and embraced God as an omnipotent friend who is gentle, non-judgmental, and kind.
Despite the chaos and flames, I wouldn’t relive or revise my 20s. Would you? Tell me about your 20s (or any decade that was transformative for you). What did you burn down? What did you grow? Don’t hold back.
