Navigating Life in Your Twenties

I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve heard the phrase, “navigating life in your twenties.”

It’s become one of those sayings that gets thrown around so often it almost loses its meaning.

But lately, I’ve found myself coming back to it.

Not because I’ve figured life out.

Because I haven’t.

In fact, the older I get, the more I realise that nobody really knows what they’re doing.

Not me.

Not my friends.

Not even our parents.

We’re all just making decisions with the information we have at the time and hoping they lead somewhere worthwhile.

One of the hardest parts of my twenties has been navigating money.

I’ve been living out of home since I was eighteen. Rent has always come first. Bills have always come first. Responsibilities have always come first.

And when I finally manage to save some money, a part of me wants to put it away for my future.

The other part wants to book the flight.

I’ve checked my bank account before booking a trip and known it wasn’t the sensible thing to do.

But I’ve also learned that some of the most defining moments of my life started with decisions that looked irresponsible on paper and transformative in reality.

The irony is that money isn’t really what this is about.

It’s about the pressure we put on ourselves to do life “correctly”.

To save enough.

Earn enough.

Achieve enough.

Become enough.

And if I’m honest, that’s where a lot of my anxiety about my twenties comes from.

The feeling that I should be further ahead.

I look around and see friends moving in with partners, getting engaged, building homes, climbing career ladders and creating lives that seem stable and certain.

Meanwhile, I’m over here wondering whether I should book another trip, change direction, start something new or completely reinvent my life for the hundredth time.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m behind.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve spent too much time exploring.

Too much time changing my mind.

Too much time chasing experiences instead of certainty.

But then I ask myself a different question.

Behind who?

One thing social media has convinced us of is that life unfolds in milestones.

Engagement.

House.

Marriage.

Promotion.

Baby.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

As though life is one giant checklist and success is measured by how quickly you complete it.

But some of us are living entirely different stories.

Some of us are moving countries.

Starting over.

Healing from heartbreak.

Learning how to be alone.

Building businesses.

Finding ourselves.

Or losing ourselves and finding ourselves all over again.

Those achievements don’t always fit neatly into an Instagram post, but they’re just as meaningful.

I’ve spent so much of my twenties believing there was a right answer to everything.

The right career.

The right city.

The right relationship.

The right next step.

As though somewhere out there was a version of my life that was perfectly mapped out, and if I made one wrong turn, I’d somehow miss it.

But the older I get, the more I realise that life doesn’t work like that.

Most decisions aren’t right or wrong.

They’re simply different.

We spend so much time paralysed by the fear of making the wrong choice that we forget a choice itself creates momentum.

I’ve moved countries, changed plans, started over, walked away from things I thought would last forever and said yes to opportunities that terrified me.

None of those decisions came with certainty.

Most came with equal parts fear and excitement.

But every single one taught me something.

And that’s what I’ve learned: you don’t need certainty before you take the leap.

You need trust.

Trust that whatever happens on the other side, you’ll figure it out.

Because every challenge you’ve faced so far, every setback, every heartbreak, every moment you thought would break you, has somehow led you here.

And here you are.

Still standing.

When I moved back to Australia after three years in the UK, I thought I’d return with answers.

Instead, I returned with more questions.

Questions about where I belonged, what I wanted, where I saw my future and who I was becoming.

At first, I thought that uncertainty meant I was lost.

Now I think it meant I was growing.

Sometimes growth doesn’t look like confidence.

Sometimes it looks like standing at a crossroads and taking the next step anyway.

One thing nobody prepares you for is how much grieving happens in your twenties.

Not necessarily people.

But versions of yourself.

The future you thought you’d have.

The relationship you thought would last.

The city you thought you’d stay in forever.

The friendships you slowly outgrow.

The dreams that no longer fit.

Growing up isn’t just about gaining things.

It’s also about learning to let things go.

And perhaps that’s why your twenties can feel so messy.

You’re constantly becoming someone new while saying goodbye to someone old.

If I could say one thing to anyone navigating their twenties, it would be this:

Stop treating your life like a deadline.

Stop measuring your timeline against someone else’s.

Stop believing that because your friend got engaged, bought a house, found their dream job or seems to have everything figured out, that you’re somehow behind.

You are not behind.

You’re simply living a different story.

Your twenties aren’t a race to the finish line.

They’re an invitation to explore.

To get things wrong.

To change your mind.

To start over.

To fall in love.

To get your heart broken.

To move countries.

To book the flight.

To discover who you are when nobody is telling you who to be.

Life really isn’t that serious.

And when you finally realise that, life becomes a lot more fun.

That’s not to say responsibilities disappear.

You still have bills to pay, careers to build and difficult decisions to make.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped believing that every choice would determine the rest of my life.

I started trusting myself more.

Taking chances.

Saying yes.

Doing it for the plot.

Because when I’m eighty years old, I don’t want to look back and remember all the times I played it safe.

I want to look back and think,

Wow.

I really did that.

We spend so much of our twenties trying to find ourselves.

As if somewhere out there is a finished version waiting to be discovered.

But maybe that’s not how it works.

Maybe you aren’t lost.

Maybe you’re under construction.

Maybe every wrong turn, every heartbreak, every move, every risk and every restart is simply another brushstroke on the canvas.

You don’t find yourself.

You create yourself.

And maybe that’s what navigating your twenties really is.

Not having it all figured out.

Not finding the perfect path.

But having the courage to keep becoming.

One uncertain step at a time.