Dealing with Unfulfilled Childhood Dreams & Expectations, as well as Navigating Adulthood as a New Adult | Story Meets Reality

My 20s are a nightmare. Literally. I have more panic attacks, depressive episodes, and uncontrollable thoughts than ever before. In fact, responsibilities keep mounting up, and it feels as though I missed out on an essential handbook to adulthood. I keep rummaging through my thoughts wondering why it appears as if every day keeps getting gloomier to the point where colour has slowly been drained from life. So, I start to think to myself, perhaps the way I view life stems from my childhood experiences, dreams, and expectations.

I could have done more in-depth research on how one deals with unfulfilled childhood dreams and how they affect the way you manoeuvre your way through adulthood. However, I love telling my stories in hopes that we can all relate and figure it out together. So, put on your seatbelts because we are about to drive down a tempestuous road to my rather chaotic childhood.

Dreams and expectations.

Truly, I had an overactive imagination when I was younger. I might have planned my entire adulthood to a dot. I knew what I wanted, ok? Nevertheless, there are two scenarios to what I wanted my adulthood to look like. The first and most ridiculous one being that by the age of 23 I wanted to be married with kids and a stable job. So horrific, right? I’m cringing as I type this. I am almost 23, and I am so glad I’m not there yet. Technically, I wouldn’t mind a job. That was the only reasonable part in that scenario. My second scenario was concocted when I was going through my emo phase and pretty much hated people. This was the longest phase which I am still recovering from. Anyway, I somehow thought that by the time I was 23, I would have my own house in a very isolated area where I would have a duck pond and a big library. I also thought by then, I would be a successful published author.

Technically, I do like the second scenario with the exception of hating people. I love people now. These scenarios happened at different stages of my life, and as I grew older, I kept adjusting them every time I developed new passions and hobbies. Mind you, I did go through a lot of passions. I mean, I’m a fashion designer with a degree in Industrial Psychology and Psychology. Who would have thought? I was so sure I would study English Literature and Fine arts. My younger self would be so disappointed. Needless to say, this just shows that when I was younger, I genuinely thought I would have figured it all out by now. I thought I knew what I wanted, and I believed that the way towards that success was straightforward and smooth.

 

The reality.

Reality hit like a slap in the face, and I am so lost. I am in my 20s, and I haven’t figured anything out. I have lost so much, and I feel drained. I have experienced the kind of horrors that would have broken my younger self. Yet, I’m still standing. Sometimes I hate that I have the audacity to still stand tall when my world is falling apart. Or maybe… My younger self has broken and I’m the result of the traces of her that’s left. If there’s anything left… It makes sense because I feel like I have lost her. I’ve changed, and I hate it sometimes. The girl with eyes that sparkled with so much hope and enthusiasm that could have conquered anything. She built a beautiful world in her head, and she wanted it to be hers. She would do anything to get to her dream… but she’s gone. In her place is doubt, anxiety, traumas, confusion, and distractions. It appears as if only a shell of her is left. So, I try to search for her because I suppose I want her back. I look for her in her drawings, the stories she wrote, and the books she read. I comb through for traces of her. Even if it’s just a strand because I believe she’s the only way toward the light at the end of this dark tunnel that I’m trapped in. But I don’t find her. After all, how can I find something that’s no longer there. It’s like hunting for a ghost. I give up and look at the one that’s left. The shell. It’s fascinating because the more I look the more I see that she’s in fact not a shell. She’s a whole person. Not different, just an evolved version of the sparkly eyed girl. She’s a work in progress, and I think she’s kind of cool. She does not only dream, but she dares to try. Barriers and limitations do not exist in her world. She falls way too much, but she gets up each time. She hasn’t found her rhythm or her wings yet, but I think she’s close. Not only did she start challenging the cognitive distortion that tricked her into seeing the world in such a black and white manner, but she also learned not to fear her emotions.

So, I think to myself, my 20s are not a nightmare. I am going through a transitional phase in my life and it’s not easy because life is not supposed to be easy. Life is not fair, but we learn to make do with what we experience. We also allow ourselves to appreciate the small victories. We’re growing, but it won’t always be like this. Maybe this is just the rain before the rainbow. Thus, just because we are experiencing new challenges doesn’t mean they are going to always be our challenges. Challenges are meant to be conquered.