Late twenties anxiety

In my circle in San Francisco, no one really cares about anything except building their startup. So when I returned to Taiwan this time, I was struck by how different my friends were.

The biggest reason for this difference is stability. My life is anything but stable — I don’t even know which continent I’ll be on in the next three years, so I haven’t put much thought into long-term plans for my career or relationships. But my friends are the complete opposite.

On Marriage:

Many of my Taiwanese friends are either married or on their way there, meaning they’re in long-term, committed relationships. Even those who aren’t are actively searching. Meanwhile, I’m not just single. In a foreseeable future, I don’t really see myself having a long term relationship. What’s worst, every romantic relationship I’ve had has been an outright failure. Besides, I don’t even know if I want to get married or have kids!

On Career:

Most of my friends have held multiple jobs and now enjoy some degree of stability. They’re making small, incremental optimizations — pursuing a master’s degree, changing jobs slowly but surely. But me? I still don’t fully know what I’m doing. Job security is never guaranteed for an immigrant in the U.S., and I feel far from settled.

When I met up with a friend I hadn’t seen in six or seven years, I was completely shocked. She had matured so much that I could already picture how she’d talk to her future children — if she didn’t already have them. It hit me: I’m at that age already?! Worst of all, she invited me to apply for a youth program available only to those aged 15–30… and I’m about to age out. Terrifying.

Of course, everyone moves at their own pace in life and relationships, but most of my Taiwanese friends seem to be on their way, while I haven’t even begun. I feel nowhere near ready for this next phase of life.

I fear the weight of time, the burden of responsibility, and the creeping sense that I’m falling behind.

I feel behind. Immature. Incapable. Lost. Late-twenties anxiety has consumed me. And honestly, it makes sense — especially as a woman. It’s the time when society tells you to start thinking about these things because biology places a limit on fertility. Sure, freezing my eggs could buy me some time, but I don’t even have the savings to do that yet!

And how could I possibly think about marriage when I don’t even know if my future partner will be in Europe, Latin America, Asia, or the U.S.?

Feeling aware, I sat with my anxiety for weeks. Listened to it. Tried to understand it. Showed myself compassion instead of judgment. Of course, it was uncomfortable. Sometimes, I distracted myself with social media, TV, and work. But eventually, a sense of self-acceptance emerged.

“Yes, Esther. I hear you. I know you’re anxious. And it’s okay.”

Then, I stumbled upon something I had written long ago:

As humans, we often feel it’s not enough. We aren’t good enough, rich enough, successful enough, fast enough. We haven’t dated, explored, traveled enough. But what if we could momentarily silence the stories in our minds and simply enjoy having a life in this universe? — Seeing my aging self

Maybe the secret is in adding a dash of pain, doing what’s necessary, and then letting go of the rest. Surrendering to the uncontrollable feels like the most intimate sex with the teaching of life. So here I am, letting go all my need for control and embracing whatever life offers me with a simple, yes. — Of course life is RIDICULOUS

I’m still anxious. But seeing my own words reminded me to slow down, to breathe, to trust that I’ll figure things out — because I always have.

I also gained new perspective. I met a friend who had broken up with her doctor partner because she wasn’t ready to move to his city or settle down. She told me, “I don’t even know what I’m doing yet! And he told me my eggs will be bad by 30.” And I realized — haha, me too! I’m lost too! There’s no way I’m settling!

I now see my exploration as both a blessing and a curse. My friends settle because they can envision a life flourishing in their hometown. But I can’t suppress my immense curiosity — the urge to explore the world, to experience different cultures, values, and ways of life. I see an undeniable potential inside me, something I can’t quiet, something that refuses to let me stay in one place with one version of success story.

I am my own disruptive innovation.

I love that about myself. But I also fear it.

I fear that this restless energy will keep me from having a “normal” life — a stable career, a loving partnership, a family of my own.

I feel scared.

I don’t know what to do.

But maybe… just maybe… it’s time to embrace it.

How? I don’t know.