A New Decade: Thank you 20’s

The year is 2026, and all the kids born in 1996 have officially stepped into a new journey: our thirties. 

If you ask anyone about their twenties, they’ll probably say it was either the best or the worst time of their life. Highs and lows, laughter and tears. For some, it was their prime. For others, just an extended version of high school. But one thing is for sure—we had experiences. 

In my twenties, I lived through the textbook definition of a recession, people eating Tide Pods, a toilet paper crisis, and a global pandemic that made folks act like the first Resident Evil movie was about to become real life. Honestly, I wish I had bought a plague doctor mask back then. Maybe I’ll grab one next time. 

I learned a lot in my twenties. And as I step into a new decade, I figured I’d share six of my biggest takeaways. Yes, this is one of those “things I learned” lists. 

 Here’s my top six things I learned in my twenties: 

1. Distance Can Heal 

I moved to Texas at the age of 21, shortly after getting married. I had no idea what was in store—just knew I wanted: 

• To leave the town I grew up in 

• Create physical distance from my biological family 

I didn’t grow up in extreme dysfunction, but it wasn’t a white picket fence either. I grew up with my grandmother, mother, and 2 siblings. I was in direct contact with substance abuse, physical, and psychological violence. Statics were not exactly in my favor. 

Moving lifted weight, I didn’t even realize I was carrying. Space allowed me to focus on the family I was building and forced me to confront my own role in my blood family’s dynamic. 

Through distance, I realized I struggled with anxious codependency, a martyr complex, and abandonment issues. I’m still peeling back layers. And yes, it's very hard. But creating physical space from my family allowed me to start the process of peeling back the curtain from wounds.  

2. Mental Health Is a Lifetime Journey 

I’ve struggled with mental health for as long as I can remember. I’ve been clinically diagnosed with ADHD, depression, generalized anxiety, and social anxiety. 

 For most of my life, I just lived with it. I didn’t really try to understand how it shaped my habits, my thinking, or my relationships.  

Thankfully, over the last decade, there’s been a huge shift in how we talk about and treat mental health. There are still gaps, but we’re not pretending it doesn’t exist anymore. I’ve only scratched the surface of understanding my type of ADHD, my triggers, and the coping mechanisms that help with my depression and anxiety. Last year, I faced one of the worst mental health years I’ve had in a decade for a long time. Burnout and other triggers sent me spiraling, and I'm just now starting to get back to myself. 

The truth is: if you deal with mental health struggles, they don’t just disappear. Medication can assist with symptoms. Therapy can help with pattern recognition and self-awareness. However, these are just tools to help manage — there is no real cure; it is a lifelong battle. 

3. Relationships Require Two People 

Chris Rock said it best in Tambourine: 

“People say relationships are tough. No, they’re only tough when one person is working on it. Two people can move a couch real easy… one person can’t move it at all.” 

After seeing it while scrolling on the interwebs, that metaphor has stuck with me. 

Whether romantic, platonic, or familial, every relationship eventually ends—either by death or by choice. In my twenties, I learned that most relationships fall apart because someone stops putting in the effort; maybe they decide it’s not worth their time anymore, or maybe someone holds onto a false version of the other person and that illusion eventually breaks. 

My marriage ended because I felt like the only one battling my demons. Friendships ended because the version of me in someone else’s head didn’t match reality. and when confronted with that reality, it wasn’t worth the effort to repair. 

Relationships require more than compatibility. They require communication and a willingness to examine yourself and how your actions affect others. I’m not perfect at that. But I’m working on it.  

One person can’t move the couch alone. 

4. My Life Should Be Lived by My Rules 

I’m in a strange but beautiful stage of life. I’m not fully where I want to be, but I’m not who I used to be either. 

 For years, I was terrified of being alone but scared of not being able to follow my dreams. I grew up in a loud house. Then I got married. I had never truly lived on my own. I didn’t even realize how little freedom I felt until I had it. 

At 26, recently separated and moved into my own apartment, I was completely terrified. But after almost two years of living solo, I started to find and work on using my voice. I learned what I liked. More importantly, I learned what I don’t like.  

For the first time in 26 years, I only had to take care of myself. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. It was liberating. And I decided I will never allow myself to feel caged again. 

5. The Blood of the Covenant… 

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”  

Most people shorten it to “blood is thicker than water.” I grew up hearing that version — and I’ve always found it a little toxic.  

We don’t get to choose who we’re related to. Shared blood is a fact. But family isn’t always safe. For some people, family is where the deepest wounds start. What I wanted in my twenties — more than anything — was something American culture often pushes us away from: community.  

The power of having people lean on. To build with. To show up for and be shown up for. Whether it’s in religion, a hobby, or a monthly dinner with friends, community matters. 

I’ve learned that I need it. I also know I need it in doses. If I socialize too much, I burn out. But having trusted people in my life is not negotiable, and for a good portion of us it is also a terrifying experience.  

Chosen family can be just as powerful — sometimes more powerful — than blood ties. Although we can, we were not meant to survive alone. 

6. Everyone Is Ordinary. Everyone Is Extraordinary. 

There’s a book I listened to a while back called The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck* by Mark Manson.  

In the chapter titled “You Are Not Special,” he walks through the uncomfortable truth that none of us are inherently extraordinary. It’s a bit brutal. But necessary. 

 I grew up in the participation trophy era. And noticed how some of us internalized the idea that we’re owed something — a promotion, success, recognition — just for existing. And the reality is… life doesn’t owe you a fucking thing.  

I’m not exempt from entitlement. I have my moments. But between getting married young, moving states, divorcing, surviving a pandemic, and just life doing what life does — I’ve realized I’m not special in the way I once thought.  

And yet. I am special. Not because I’m owed anything. But because I am uniquely human. I have strengths and weaknesses. Trauma that needs healing. Knowledge that can help someone else. Experiences that no one else has in the exact same way. Other people may share similar stories. But they will never be me. And I will never be them. 

 So, I hold both truths: I am ordinary. And I am extraordinarily unique. And maybe that’s the real lesson of my twenties — learning how to sit in both. 

If my twenties were about survival and self-awareness, my thirties are about intention. Choosing what stays and what doesn’t. Building relationships that can move the couch. Protecting my peace without isolation from the community. Managing mental health instead of pretending it isn’t there. 

I don’t have it all figured out. But I know myself better than ten years ago. Maybe that’s the real upgrade—not perfection or prestige, but awareness, boundaries, and the courage to live a life that feels like mine. 

What have you learned recently, and how can you carry it into the next season of your life?