Why I’m Not Romanticizing My Own Exhaustion
They say, “Enjoy it while it lasts!”, “You’ll never be this young again!”, “This is the best time of your life!”
But if the best time means pushing through burnout, masking my struggles, and barely getting by—then I’m not interested.
This isn’t a pity party. It’s a protest.
Because I’m tired of being gaslit by nostalgia I don’t even have yet.
☀️ Youth ≠ Joy
There’s this pervasive idea that your 20s and 30s are some kind of golden era—a montage of travel, late nights, deep friendships, reckless fun, and effortless beauty. The messaging comes from everywhere: media, family, coworkers, that one aunt who peaked in high school.
But for many of us, this season is less “coming-of-age movie” and more post-apocalyptic survival sim:
working two jobs just to afford therapy we can’t find time to attend being diagnosed with things we were told we’d outgrow caretaking for family while barely holding ourselves together navigating dating, debt, identity, burnout, and bureaucracy—often at the same time
This isn’t a golden age. It’s a grit-your-teeth-and-keep-going era. And no amount of pastel Instagram quotes will make me call it “magical.”
🧠 The “Best Years” Myth Is Ableist and Classist
The narrative of “youthful freedom” assumes a certain level of privilege. Who exactly gets to feel free?
- Not the person managing chronic illness without consistent health care.
- Not the first-gen student navigating generational trauma and imposter syndrome.
- Not the neurodivergent adult who just learned how to mask before learning how to ask for help.
As disability advocate and writer Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha reminds us:
“Not everyone has the same timeline. Some of us are late bloomers because we weren’t given sunlight.”
😡 Gentle Rage Is Still Rage
I’m not mad that other people have good memories. I’m mad that those memories get weaponized into expectations. That we’re told we must be doing something wrong if we’re not glowing with joy in every selfie.
What if we’re not behind? What if the script is just… broken?
Not everyone gets to feel carefree in early adulthood. Not everyone should have to. Survival is not failure. Delayed joy is still joy. And guess what? It’s okay if the best hasn’t happened yet.
🛠 Redefining “Best”
I’m not giving up on having good years. I’m just rejecting the lie that I’ve already missed them.
My “best” might look different:
- Feeling safe in my body for the first time
- Laughing without exhaustion
- Choosing rest without guilt
- Being surrounded by people who get it
- Building something weird and beautiful and fully mine
📝 Journaling Prompt:
What if your best years aren’t behind you, but ahead—or happening quietly right now, under all the noise?
Write a list of anti-highlight-reel wins:
- Moments that felt real, even if they weren’t pretty Things you’ve survived Joy that didn’t look like the brochure
- We don’t owe anyone a romantic story about our suffering.
- We don’t have to be grateful for a life we’re still learning how to live.
- And we sure as hell don’t have to pretend this is the best it gets.
Related post: Setting Boundaries with Loved Ones: A Guide to Healthier Connections
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