When I was fifteen, I thought twenty-seven-year-olds had their shit together.
They had jobs. They paid bills. They had families. They looked like they knew what they were doing.
I am twenty-seven now. (Almost twenty-eight.)
I would like to formally apologize to fifteen-year-old me for the misinformation.
Here is a list of all the things I was absolutely convinced I’d have figured out by now.
Spoiler: I haven’t.
1. My career
After I finished high school, I wanted to be a little bit of everything — actress, tour guide, flight attendant, lawyer. I genuinely thought I’d know exactly what I wanted to do by now.
Instead, in this race for money, I’m doing something I like, but I don’t feel like it’s necessarily it for me.
I keep thinking there must be something that makes me wake up and think, yes, this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Maybe that thing exists. Maybe I haven’t found it yet.
Or maybe I’m just the kind of person who will always have seventeen plans and refuse to pick just one.
Honestly, that sounds more like me.
2. Love
I thought by twenty-seven I’d understand relationships.
I remember how I planned to have two children by the age of twenty-four.
Turns out, I mostly understand what I don’t want.
And I do have two babies — my cats.
I guess this is progress.
I used to think love was something you eventually figured out, like a recipe you finally learned after ruining enough dinners.
Now I think you just get better at recognizing what feels right, what feels wrong, and what you should probably run away from.
Fast.
3. Money
I thought being an adult meant having money.
What do you mean you’re not paid a lot of money for your work?
Apparently, being an adult means having bills and knowing exactly where the money went five minutes after payday.
In my case, on clothes and makeup products.
Priorities.
I also thought that by twenty-seven I’d be financially responsible enough to look at my bank account without experiencing a brief existential crisis.
That one is still under development.
4. Friendships
I thought I’d have the same friends forever.
Now I have people from different eras of my life, and somehow each one belongs to a different version of me.
Some stayed.
Some became memories.
Some became lessons I didn’t particularly ask for.
And somehow, I stopped seeing that as a failure.
I used to think losing people meant something had gone wrong.
Now I understand that sometimes people simply belong to a chapter you eventually finish.
And that’s okay.
5. Being alone
I thought being alone meant something was missing.
I remember how afraid I was of storms.
In time, I became one.
Now I actively protect my alone time like it’s a national treasure.
There is something incredibly peaceful about coming home, taking off your shoes, putting your phone somewhere you can’t hear it and realizing that nobody needs anything from you.
I used to be afraid of being alone.
Now I sometimes have to be convinced to leave my house.
Growth.
6. My body
At fifteen, I thought I’d eventually wake up looking like a Victoria’s Secret model.
At twenty-seven, I am negotiating with my stomach after pasta.
I think we can all agree that fifteen-year-old me had unrealistic expectations.
I also thought that at some point I’d simply become comfortable in my body.
Apparently, that’s not quite how it works.
Some days I love it.
Some days I look in the mirror and wonder who authorized this particular face.
And then I get dressed and go live my life anyway.
7. Discipline
At fifteen, I thought that by the time I got older, I would automatically have more discipline.
Apparently, nobody told me that discipline doesn’t arrive with age.
I’m ashamed to admit that it took me twenty-seven years to actually start doing something about it.
I used to think motivation would come first and discipline would follow.
Turns out, sometimes you have to do things even when you don’t feel like doing them.
Revolutionary concept, apparently.
I’m still working on it.
But at least now I know that waiting to magically become disciplined isn’t exactly a strategy.
8. Having everything figured out
I thought adulthood would eventually come with a moment when everything suddenly made sense.
It didn’t.
There was no ceremony.
No certificate.
No mysterious woman handing me a folder labelled “YOUR LIFE: COMPLETE.”
You just keep going.
You figure some things out.
You change your mind about others.
You make plans.
You abandon them.
You make new ones.
And you keep going.
I think that was the biggest lie fifteen-year-old me believed about growing up: that one day I’d finally arrive.
Apparently, we’re just constantly becoming.
9. Regret
I thought growing up meant regretting the stupid things I did.
Now I mostly think they’re good stories.
Some are even really good stories.
And maybe that’s one of the nicest things about getting older — learning that you don’t have to be proud of every decision to be grateful for the person it helped create.
I wouldn’t repeat everything.
God, absolutely not.
But I wouldn’t erase it either.
10. Home
I used to think my home would be four walls and a man waiting for me to come back from work.
A house full of children, dogs and laughter.
Fifteen-year-old me would probably look at my life now and ask where the husband and the children are.
I’d probably look back at her and say:
You’ll understand later.
Because at twenty-seven, home looks completely different.
Home is a grown woman who still behaves like a child around me — my best friend.
Two cats.
A life that doesn’t look anything like the one I imagined.
And wherever life takes us, together.
It’s not what I thought home would be.
But I’m happy with the difference.
So maybe I haven’t figured out as much as I thought I would.
But looking at this list, I realize I’ve figured out a few things I never knew I’d need to.
And finally…
Myself
I thought by twenty-seven I’d know exactly who I am.
Instead, I know something better.
I know who I’m not willing to become anymore.
I know what kind of life I don’t want.
What kind of love I won’t settle for.
What kind of people I want around me.
What parts of myself I’m still working on.
And what parts I’m never giving up.
Maybe growing up isn’t about figuring everything out.
Maybe it’s about becoming comfortable with the fact that you never will.
Maybe it’s realizing that the girl you were at fifteen was never supposed to have all the answers.
She was just supposed to live.
Make mistakes.
Fall in love.
Get her heart broken.
Make questionable decisions.
Make good ones too.
And somehow, get here.
To twenty-seven.
Almost twenty-eight.
Still figuring shit out.
Still making plans.
Still changing my mind.
Still becoming.
And honestly?
I think I’m finally okay with that.
Until next time 🤍
