It is very apt, then, that I was reading Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay on my birthday present, the (TOTALLY AWESOME, NEW LOVE OF MY LIFE, DESERVES OWN POST ABOUT IT) Kindle Paperwhite that Goose gave me, and Gay says this about her 20’s:
Girls reminds me of how terrible my twenties were—being lost and awkward, having terrible sex with terrible people, being perpetually broke, eating ramen. I am not nostalgic for that time. I had no money and no hope. Like the girls in Girls, I was never really on the verge of destitution but I lived a generally crappy life. There was nothing romantic about the experience. I understand why many young women find the show so relatable, but watching each episode makes me slightly nauseous and exceptionally grateful to be in my thirties.It resonated with me, not because I had a particularly terrible time being 20-something (for the record, I also did not have terrible sex with terrible people while being terribly broke), but because I really do feel like I’m in a much more enviable position now than I was at any point in my 20’s.
In the grand old tradition of lazy writing and year-end/start-year lists…
And it is truly liberating. I am a pretty high-strung, tightly-wound individual. When I was younger, this meant I used to care a lot about things that honestly, in hindsight, didn’t really matter in the long run. (To quote super economist JM Keynes: “in the long run we are all dead.”) I used to worry about what people thought of me, about making a bad impression, about saying the wrong thing, about coming across as unintelligent. Gradually, I learned to distinguish between what matters and what doesn’t; to follow the principle that it is better to have said and done than to regret not saying and not doing; and to prioritize my fucks accordingly. If it doesn’t matter, and it holds me back: fuck it. I think (and I hope I’m right) that if you have conviction; and logic, reason, and integrity to back you up: you have to just keep doing you, and tune out the background noise. I now give fewer shits (metaphorically, not constipation-ally), less fucks and generally care less about things that aren’t important to me, things I cannot control, and the people to whom I’m not important.
2. I’m more comfortable in my own skin. (Literally.)
This confession can totally be chalked up to me being in equal parts insecure and an unfashionable vainpot (the most unfortunate combination ever), but throughout my 20’s, I used to hate being seen without make-up, I was perpetually anxious about the way I dressed, and I have been in a constant battle with my hair since I was 13 years old. My relationship with my appearance has improved throughout my 20’s, but ironically, it has improved because now (and this is also partly related to #1), I generally give less fucks. My physical attributes are never going to magically transform into something different, so you do what you can with what you have, and call it a day. That isn’t to say I don’t care at all anymore (you can pry my NARS Orgasm blush from my cold dead hands… after you apply some on my cheeks so I can go to my grave looking rosy), but it means that I DO now like how I look even without make-up. I wear make-up because it’s fun and it makes me happy, but not because I’m going to freak out and not function in life if I’m not wearing it. It’s taken me almost 30 years to be friends with the person I see in the mirror; sometimes her hair still looks crazy and her boyfriend jeans are too baggy, but we both don’t really let it bother us that much.
3. I’m financially stable.
Especially compared to my teens (when my income was totally dependent on my parents, for which I will always be grateful; but being the eldest child of five means you never have very much disposable income) and even my early 20’s (as a fresh graduate). I’m now fiscally comfortable, and can indulge in whatever strange and weird spending habits I so desire, whenever I desire (books, bags, and travel, mainly) without having to answer to anyone. I’m half of a Dual Income, No Kids Yet couple, have life insurance, savings, pay my taxes and bills (mostly) on time and hopefully, early this year, will become a joint home owner with Goose. We’re going to own a house?! That’s pretty financially stable.
4. I have a great support system.
This, for me, is probably the most meaningful difference. When I look back on my early 20’s, the period after graduating from university, I remember being achingly, suffocatingly lonely. Most of my family was in Brunei; my then-boyfriend was in the US; my high school and university friends were scattered around the world finishing up their degrees or starting their careers.
When I moved to KL, I literally only knew one person whom I counted as a friend, and I hadn’t seen or been in touch with her for 5 years. This probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I was naturally gregarious, but I’m not. I’m not outgoing. I tend to be cautiously quiet around people I don’t know. I don’t think I make a stellar first impression and can sometimes come across as cold. And I did encounter more than a little culture shock when I moved to KL, which made me wonder if I could find anyone I could really connect with, if the culture just seemed so alien. It was lonely, because I remember being very alone.
During my first few weekends in KL, I slept all day during the weekends, because I had nothing else to do and no one to do it with. I think I cried on occasion, but I can’t remember because I have mostly blocked it out and because tears are pretty unproductive. I fulfilled my social interaction quota at work – my colleagues were kind and hilarious, but they were significantly older than me and didn’t really want to be hanging out with me outside of the office – and via Skype and chats with my far-flung family members.
I plodded along with the dogged, and fortunately for me, not deluded, determination that I was going to give this city a try for a year or two, and see what happened. So what has happened now is that I am no longer lonely. I have best friends, good friends, and acquaintances in KL. I have people to call in an emergency, people to go out with, people to have lunch with. If I sleep in all day during the weekend, which, I must admit, still happens on occasion – I do it knowing that when I wake up, my husband will be in the living room playing video games, waiting for me to wake up, so we can have the lunch that we had delivered from a home delivery service because we are lazy. It is incredibly comforting to be so not lonely, and so happy.
QED: 30’s > 20’s.
