it's okay to be lost.

20 lessons from my 20s i wish i'd known sooner.

Mar 12, 2025

growing up, i had mentors from every corner of life: priests, rabbis, business people, professors.

i spent weekends eavesdropping on the esoteric conversations of freemasons, listening to my father practice his rituals, staying up late with him every night counting and arranging the day’s revenue; listening to my mother explain the dreams of people in our community, spending long afternoons with her in the store, watching her navigate a foreign world in a foreign language while i did my homework beside her.

i was taught how to read religious texts alongside balance sheets, how to analyze dreams as carefully as historical trends, how to bend to the world around me like water in order to survive and thrive. i learned alchemy before i even knew how to spell “alchemy”, absorbing its lessons like a second language.

for a while, i thought that meant i’d have life figured out early. i was always an avid reader, obsessed with learning, constantly looking for the deeper meaning in things. but then my teen years came along, and reading took a backseat to friendships, crushes, and the desperate attempt to belong.

i spent more time analyzing texts from boys than ancient manuscripts, more time decoding group dynamics than the symbols in my dreams, more time trying to hide what made me different rather than learning who i was.

by the time i hit my twenties, i should’ve had all the tools to navigate the chaos—years of wisdom, guidance, study, and navigation of a hostile world. but none of that stopped me from getting lost.

after high school, i didn’t know what i wanted to major in, and ended up switching three times before landing on literature and philosophy. i spent years giving my heart to people who were reckless with it. i made friends with people who took advantage of me. i ignored my intuition, thinking logic would save me. i mistook exhaustion for ambition. i doubted myself, compared myself, tried desperately to be someone i wasn’t, to be anyone but myself.

it took me a long time to understand that knowledge isn’t the same as wisdom, that knowing something intellectually doesn’t mean you’ll live it. but some lessons have to be learned the hard way, through mistakes, heartbreak, and slow realizations that come years after the struggle is over.

and even though i stumbled, even though i ignored the signs more times than i can count, i wouldn’t change a thing about the path that led me here. because in the end, every detour still brought me to myself.

that being said, it wouldn’t have hurt if i’d listened a little sooner.

so if you’re in your twenties, or are about to be, or are just feeling lost in the in-between (because confusion has no age)—here are some of the lessons i wish i had paid more attention to a little earlier.

they won’t prevent every mistake, and they’re not meant to. but maybe, i hope, they’ll help you move through it all with a little more clarity, confidence, and grace, and the reminder that, no matter what, you are already becoming who you’re meant to be.

resistance is a compass. whatever you avoid is exactly where you need to go.

for the longest time, i wanted to share my writing and my thoughts with the world, but i refused to put my face on the internet. i cringed at people who made talking head videos, and could never conceive of ever putting myself out there in that way. i tried so many different formats for years, some of which did alright, most of which flopped, until i finally decided to put my own alchemical learning in practice, and do the thing i was so strongly against. two weeks later, my account blew up, i quit my day job, and since then i've made a career out of doing what i love and sharing it with the world.

your social circle will shift, and that's not a failure—it's growth.

when i was 22, i had a group of friends i thought i’d have for life. we did everything together. but slowly, our conversations started feeling hollow, our shared habits became mundane. i clung to those friendships out of loyalty, even when they drained me. looking back, i wish i had let go sooner. some people are meant to be part of your story, but not necessarily your whole book.

your future self is already reaching for you. meet them halfway.

sometimes i get a clear vision of the person i’m meant to be. and sometimes, i sabotage myself before i get there. but i’ve learned that every time i make the small choice to step toward them—reading instead of scrolling, speaking up instead of shrinking, sitting up straight instead of slouching—that version of me feels closer. on that note though:

some “self-sabotage” is actually self-protection. find out what you’re protecting yourself from.

i used to procrastinate on big opportunities. a dream job application? i’d submit it last-minute, full of typos. an important meeting? i’d show up unprepared. it took me years to realize i wasn’t lazy—i was scared. failing after trying my best felt too vulnerable, so i unconsciously made sure i had an excuse to do poorly. once i figured that out, everything changed.

there are places you belong that you haven’t even been to yet.

i used to feel out of place everywhere, like i was waiting for a life i hadn’t arrived at yet, or even worse, a life that didn’t exist. then one day, i walked into a traveler’s house in san diego, and felt like i was home. that’s when i realized: just because you haven’t found your people yet, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

some doors only open when you knock three times.

the first time i submitted my poetry, i got rejected. then i applied again, and again, and again, until finally: it was picked up. persistence is the most ancient of spells.

your most valuable asset is your attention—guard it ruthlessly.

there was a year where i felt like i was doing everything i could, but nothing was changing. then i realized: amidst all the healthy habits i was trying to cultivate, i was spending endless hours a day scrolling social media, absorbing other people’s lives instead of building my own. the minute i started treating my attention like currency, my whole world shifted.

you don’t need to monetize every passion.

in my mid-20s, i turned everything i loved into a side hustle. writing, photography, art—i tried to sell it all. but after a while, none of it felt fun anymore. i missed doing things just because i loved them, not because they had to be productive. some things are meant to be sacred.

you’re allowed to change your mind—about people, careers, and even yourself.

at 21, i had my entire future mapped out. by 24, i hated everything about it. but i stuck with it because i was scared of being seen as inconsistent. looking back, i wish i had given myself permission to evolve without shame or worry about how i might be judged.

people outgrow relationships before they admit it. pay attention to when things start feeling like obligation instead of choice.

i stayed in a friendship for two years after i knew it was over (a perpetual eight of cups in reverse). every text felt like a chore. every hangout, an obligation. when i finally let the person go, i felt lighter than i had in years. staying out of guilt serves no one.

most of adulthood is just googling things and pretending to know what you’re doing.

growing up around so many wise adults, i believed for a long time that grown-ups had all the answers. then i became one and realized: we’re all just figuring things out as we go. once you accept that no one really knows what they’re doing, you stop waiting for permission to start.

emotional debt accumulates interest.

i avoided dealing with certain emotions for years. i would distract myself with work, books, projects, anything to keep busy. but emotions don’t disappear—they compound, and start to inform everything you do to escape them. the sooner you sit with your feelings, the less power they’ll have over you.

compounding works in every area of life, not just finance.

at 20, i started reading at least one to two books a month. by 25, i had read over 100 books (outside my schoolwork), and my entire being had expanded. small habits, consistently done, change you in ways you can’t even imagine.

regret doesn’t come from making the wrong choice—it comes from avoiding choice altogether.

i once spent six months debating between two opportunities. in the end, i waited so long that i lost both. as sartre says, not choosing is also a choice. i learned that action, even if imperfect, is always better than paralysis. at the same time:

the universe reroutes like google maps.

i used to think missing an opportunity meant i had failed, and i wasted a lot of time punishing myself for it. but life doesn’t work like that. if you take a wrong turn, you get redirected. sometimes, the longer route shows you something you wouldn’t have seen otherwise, or turns into another unseen route altogether.

the universe has no obligation to hand you what you haven’t asked for.

for years, i waited for opportunities to come to me. spoiler: they didn’t. then i started reaching out, applying, asking. turns out, the world can’t say yes to you if you never give it the chance.

your standards will determine your life more than your goals will.

in my early 20s, i set big goals but tolerated situations that drained me—bad jobs, flaky friends, unhealthy habits. when i raised my standards, my life aligned accordingly.

no one is thinking about you as much as you think they are.

i have obsessed over many an awkward comment i’ve made at parties and gatherings. days later, when i'd bring it up to a friend, they would have no idea what i was talking about. people are too busy worrying about themselves to analyze your every move.

if something keeps happening to you, it’s a pattern. figure out why.

for years, i found myself in the same toxic situations. different people, different places, same dynamics. once i stopped blaming bad luck and started looking at my own role in these situations, i was able to take accountability, and become the only one responsible for breaking the cycle.

your intuition is quieter than your fear.

fear is loud and dense—it yells, it catastrophizes, it creates the urgency for action. intuition is subtle—it nudges, it whispers, its decisions are patient and still. the trick is learning to tell the difference.

you won’t emerge from your twenties without bruises. no one does. but if there’s anything i’ve learned, it’s that every wrong turn, every lost friendship, every heartbreak, and every “failure” is still a step forward. transformation isn’t always obvious while it’s happening. sometimes it looks like confusion, like exhaustion, like nothing is changing. but it is—however little, it always is.

one day, you’ll wake up and realize the things that used to break you no longer have the same weight. the fears that used to paralyze you have become doors you’ve already walked through. the patterns you thought you’d never escape are nothing more than old echoes, fading into the background.

you are not supposed to have it all figured out. the work of your twenties is not perfection—it’s initiation. it’s unlearning the idea that wisdom only comes from getting it right the first time, and relearning how to trust yourself, how to let go, and how to build a life that belongs to you and no one else.

so if you feel lost, good. that means you’re moving.

if you feel resistance, good. that means you already have plenty of material.

if you feel like the version of you you’re meant to be is just out of reach, good. that means you know where they are.

i promise, the magic is already in you. you just have to learn how to use it.

until next time, safe travels, and thank you for reading 🙏

elianne

fantasmagasma

Discussion about this post