twenty five

I’m not too sure whether to say I’m only 25 or already 25 years old. I’m halfway through my twenties… and given it’s currently September and I’m a March birthday, I’m literally halfway through my twenties to the month. It’s very much a glass half empty, glass half full situation where I sometimes feel like I still have so much more time to do big things (and get more acclaim for it because * shocker * he’s only 20-something). But most of the time, especially when I think about how quickly the first 5 years of my twenties went by, I feel like I don’t have very much time at all. In fact, the biggest fear factor is that I’m training to become a doctor which will take at least 5 more years. Thinking about how necessarily all-life-consuming the past two years of my training has been, I feel a pang of anticipatory loss. By the time I’ve accomplished my career goals, I’ll have simultaneously sacrificed my fantasy goals of being a “young attractive, talented whatever”. Everyone is 25 at some point and most people are far past it, but I can’t help but start to feel my claws grasping for my fading youth and exuberant vanity. As much as I hate to admit, I’m totally a part of the “all about me” generation and my most insecure wish is that I could have already become a winner in the clout chase of life. It’s an icky feeling - wanting to reject how cringe that wish of mine is, but secretly wanting it so badly. Who doesn’t want to be famous for no reason and have life handed to them on a silver platter? It also doesn’t help that everything I see on social media reinforces how attainable it all seems. Especially when I see friends who have blown up on Spotify or gained millions of followers by being on a Netflix show, I can’t help but wallow in self-pity about whether I’ve been letting life pass me by.

With all that said, the back door of my heart is still whispering the tough-to-swallow truth: pandering over the life that I could have lived is the easiest way to let the life I am living pass me by. Some days this feels more true, that focusing on appreciating what I have been able to do in my life thus far can help me engage more fully with the present. To remember that when I truly appreciate myself as I am, I can embrace all past, present, and future selves without fear or jealousy. But other times, the fantasy beckons to me and it’s so hard to let go. It sucks, but I know it’s hard to let go because of how little I love myself.

Over the past week, I re-realized a few things that I felt were important to put into writing so that I could remind myself of the life that truly matters. I wanted to write them down so that I could pry my mind away from those fictitious futures borne from an insidious lack of self worth.

First off, practice not only makes perfect, but makes person. We always tell ourselves that different things we’re good at are due to innate mental and physical capacities. I’m sure that most people would agree that it sounds cliche when a famous athlete being interviewed says that “focus and dedication” were the most important aspects of their success. We often wave away “hard work” in favor of “built different”, because we like the idea that some people are just inherently better at different things. That way, if something is unattainable no matter how hard you try, you can tell yourself that it was never in your control - validating the fact that you never even tried.

Practice builds habits and habits build lifestyles and lifestyles build personalities. The more I learn about the human body and psyche, the more I realize we’re just blobs of play dough. If you knead it in one direction long enough, it’s going to take the shape that is most adaptive to that kneading motion. We’re not nearly as unique as we think (re: it’s easier to tell ourselves we’re just “different”). The truth is, we just haven’t been exposed to X enough or done Y enough to consider it a part of our self identity. An even better comparison than play dough is bonsai trees. Obviously the branches have their preferred shapes based on their growth conditions, but if you use metal tine to hold them in new directions for long enough, they will eventually hold the new position as their preferred state. Think about typing and how automatic it is - was it always that way? If you do something enough, whether it is socializing with new people, studying for longer hours, or smiling more, it eventually becomes a reflex, a natural part of who you are. I think that the first step to change is believing in the power of change. How can we visualize a destination when we can’t even trust in the car that’s supposed to get us there? I thought practice was an old wives tale, but I’ve been able to re-visualize how obvious - even scientific - it really is. Instead of being satisfied with the idea of being a person who wants to love himself more, I need to take literal, physical steps towards self-love.

The second thing I wanted to write about stemmed from a serendipitous conversation I had with two classmates after class. I’d never met them before but they were discussing a particular student who was snitching on classmates, and I couldn’t help but contribute my own tea to the conversation. Soon, the topic expanded beyond individuals to include instructors, the curriculum, and the school’s policies. Obviously I’d had similar conversations such as this before, but with my own friend group who I spent all of my social time with. This is an important point because as the discussion progressed, I began to realize how much of an echo chamber my opinions and assumptions came from. One girl in particular had such a positive attitude about everything which initially rubbed me the wrong way - not because she was wrong, but because it was “different” and unexpected. If anything, there was a part of me that wanted her to have the same negative sentiments as me. She would describe professors not as lazy, but as people who try their best to do what’s right while obeying orders from people even above them. Yes, the school had its problems but it was more important to make the most of the things that the school did do well. She was so untouched by the negativity that I’d assumed was a given in conversations regarding our school I began to realize how narrow-minded I’d been thus far. I was so inspired by her confident, let-it-roll-off-your-back attitude, and I wanted to instill the same ethos in myself and my friend group.

Lastly, I had a deep text conversation with my mom, and we didn’t necessarily talk about anything new - mostly hardships that our family went through for the past couple decades. When I was younger, the majority of my contributions to these conversations were complaints which I felt like were valid at the time. It was a lot of finger pointing at my parents’ shortcomings that affected my brother and I in negative ways. But this time felt different. Maybe I’d finally grown enough to be able to put myself in her shoes, and it was so obvious to me that a majority of the difficulties we faced were completely out of her control. I kept catching her apologizing for things that I now realized weren’t her fault and found myself encouraging her, not just as a mother, but as a person who was trying to do the best she can with the life that she had. I felt so much empathy for her. Empathy that I never had for myself. More than anything, it was a surreal feeling to find it so easy to point out things that I was grateful for when previously it used to be everything but. I could sense her surprise and relief to hear such a radically different perspective coming out of my mouth, and it was a really, really good feeling. A majority of my young adulthood was swallowed up by feelings of frustration and distance from the concept of family, but since I’ve been growing older, I’ve been wanting to go home more often and this moment was a conscious surfacing of my repressed desire to heal my relationship with my family and be a kinder, more understanding, and more loving son.

Persistence, positivity, and family - all important values to continue to walk into a fuller, wiser, and happier second decade of my life.