Are your 20s really all they're cracked up to be?

 Why did no one warn us of the turbulence that your 20s brings?

This decade is so readily reminisced about by elders, gushing over the best years, sold to us as the only time in your life worth revisiting. It is described with doting and reassuring labels such as:

- 'the best years of your life'

- 'your body will never be better'

-'friendships will be strong'

-'you'll be partying non-stop'

-'not a care in the world'

..... what?

I feel miss sold. There must be a claim line coming soon because let me tell you, I am half way through and it has been a roller-coaster, rapidly approaching rock bottom with the occasional unexpected high. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not here to bitch about how awful my life is, because it is not. Absolutely not. I am blessed, grateful and acutely aware of my successes and luck. Yet that does not mean that happiness is part and parcel of this. It does not mean that because I have secure employment and am a homeowner, that I skip around sprinkling glitter and hosting weekly cocktail parties where we sip martinis and discuss the importance of ISAs. 

What I am here to do is to share my own interpretation of my 20s so far, no rose-tinted spectacles tarnishing the raw reality of being a woman lost in her first quarter of life, during the 21st century. 

Regardless of your context, your background, your present circumstances - your mental health worries and fears are justified. They are real. They are important. No matter what you do have, you are allowed to mourn for what you have lost, what you are not sure how you will obtain or worries for where your life is headed. 

After leaving school, it was a natural progression for me to go to university. I studied to be a Primary School Teacher - sensible choice, secure employment and generally respected profession. I stayed at home (no daddy's credit card to buy me a flat in Nottingham, I'm afraid), worked multiple part time jobs to fund my studies and run a car so that I could get to uni and placements with ease. I graduated in 2017 with a great degree, a job lined up for September and in a secure relationship. I was (so I thought) at my peak. Life was great. I had so many friends at my new job, we'd go out for dinner during the week, go drinking at the weekends, my friends were still off at uni (post gap years, stayed in their uni town, or generally lost souls still wandering) so I was spending weekends with them too. Similarly, my family are amazing and I was spending loads of time with my cousins and their children, as the fun cousin who had boundless energy, enthusiasm and freedom. I had a healthy bank balance for the first time ever (hello full time employment) and so I treated myself to a new car on loan, went on more holidays than I can recall (hello school holidays) and was super loved up with (who I thought was) the greatest guy I could've asked for. 

Yiptee fucking dee. 

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all sunshine and roses. During that time, I lost my nan after a long, difficult and harrowing battle with cancer. This hit me harder than I would have expected. This was alongside all of the other lows and hurdles that life throws at you, but overall, my life was brilliant. My hard work had paid off and I was reaping the rewards. I was fortunate and knew it, so I was grateful.

Fast forward 18 months. Some personal reasons crept in on my boyfriend's side and he had to leave the family home as it was being sold, so with a surprising event of being written a cheque deposit (that neither of us were expecting and could not believe - again, eternally grateful for this, still in shock and acutely aware of the importance of this within our story) we found ourselves scrolling through Right Move, with a mortgage agreed and a smile on our faces. We found a 3 bed house in a beautiful town, a quarter of an hour from my family (he knew his were moving across the country so didn't have a preference) commutable to work, and surprisingly within our budget. This was because it was a 'do-er up-er' and a half... but that is a story for another day. 

I was 22 years old, it was Friday and the sun was shining, I walked out of my job that I love, got into my car that I pay for, drove to pick up my very own house keys from the man I knew I was going to marry. Jesus, I wish I could have shown my 12 yr old self this moment and proven that everything was going to be OK.

Not so fast.

Fast forward to today. My 25th birthday is a month away, I am single, sat on Right Move again looking at 30sq ft studio flats and suffering with diagnosed severe anxiety and depression.

How the fuck did life take such a turn?