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What on Earth Did I Do With My 20s?
I’ve always seen myself as a pretty ambitious person—balancing jobs, freelance gigs, and late-night fiction writing to chase my dreams, all while embracing motherhood over the past seven years. I’ve managed to publish a few books and churned out hundreds of articles. Speaking at conferences? Yep, I’ve done that too. Not too shabby for turning 40, but my hopes of being a full-time novelist or a magazine writer remain unrealized.
Then I hit the big 4-0 last year, and suddenly, the reality check hit hard. I realized I had officially aged out of awards like “Top Writers Under 40” and “Five Under 35.” To make matters worse, I recently connected with a bunch of talented women in their twenties through a networking group. These impressive young ladies seem to have had their career trajectories mapped out since they were babies. They’ve written for prestigious publications like The New Yorker and The Paris Review, hold high-ranking positions at major media firms, and have worked on beloved TV shows. Many of them have multiple degrees, personal assistants, and publicists. They’re essentially running the world and will continue to do so for years.
All of a sudden, I began to question my choices from my 20s. Skipping journalism grad school and not moving to New York now felt like a huge blunder. I often woke up in a panic, asking myself, “What’s next?” Even though I’m still hustling as a writer, there’s this nagging feeling that I’ve missed some vital career milestone.
Am I going through a midlife crisis? While many women my age might daydream about a younger partner, I find myself yearning for a cozy apartment in the East Village. I envision quiet evenings, just me and my thoughts, sipping wine with friends and discussing everything from poetry to social issues.
But let’s be honest—who can actually afford an East Village apartment with hardwood floors and gourmet hummus? Plus, years of freelance writing have shown me that even the most ideal jobs come with their own stresses.
Maybe my 20s weren’t a total waste. I devoured books, scribbled countless words in low-cost notebooks, and took any writing classes I could manage. I even produced a literary radio show and hosted a salon for local authors. I lived a creative life, even if it hasn’t led to fame or fortune.
In reality, most of my friends, especially those in their 40s, didn’t follow a straightforward path to success. Growing up in Northern California, a place known for self-discovery, I’ve been guided more by passion than obligation. While that didn’t make me a media mogul, it has given me a fulfilling life.
Moreover, if I had chosen that traditional route, I wouldn’t have my wonderful 7-year-old son, who constantly reminds me of life’s little wonders, or my supportive husband who encourages my writing pursuits, even when it means I’m not raking in a fortune or flying to Vermont for an MFA program.
Had I taken a different path in my 20s, I could be like so many others, buried under the pressure of city living, yearning for the kind of quieter existence I have now—a modest home in a charming town, surrounded by a small community and some personal achievements that don’t require sacrificing my well-being.
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In summary, while my 20s might not have followed the conventional success narrative, they were filled with rich experiences and meaningful connections. I may not have made it to the top in the traditional sense, but I’ve crafted a life of purpose and joy.