Growing up is when every little thing becomes your responsibility, a realization that can sometimes hit you hard. At 24, nearing 25, I find myself reflecting on my own journey, wondering if it's unique or if I'm somehow falling behind in this ever-shifting race. The idea of "30 is the new 20" feels less comforting and more unsettling – am I still young and carefree, or am I already late to the party?
This is a letter to myself, a reminder to be kind to the younger version striving for progress. We're making choices, sometimes stumbling, but always hoping to create a future we won't regret.
At 24, some might consider me accomplished. Finishing my bachelor's at 21, acing my professional exam – it does appear fast-paced. But then COVID-19 struck, interrupting my planned researcher career. It wasn't a rejection, but a nudge in a different direction. My intuition led me to teaching, while weaving research threads into it.
Returning to academia after three years was electrifying. The supportive environment and understanding professors made a world of difference. Finishing my second career introduction (teaching) and passing another licensure exam felt like conquering personal Everest.
Yet, even with two professional licenses and on track for a Master's degree, there's an emptiness inside. It's not about wanting more, it's about feeling incomplete. I wouldn't call myself particularly smart, but I keep exploring.
Just yesterday, a long-lost uncle sparked my curiosity with new research possibilities, even a potential PhD! My maternal uncle had done the same last year. Each offer opens a door, but reality slams it shut with the harsh echo of my financial limitations.
So, dear self, is this self-pity? No. It's a yearning for meaning, a restlessness for something undefined. Their dreams ignited mine for a moment, but I'm mature enough to acknowledge that fantasy needs to meet reality. Money solves problems, but it also creates them.
The journey unfolds one decision at a time. Though the future remains uncertain, I hold onto the faith that my unique climb will eventually lead me to that missing piece, to whatever makes me feel whole.
PS: I just want to runt for this emptiness inside