When I was born in March 1999, my parents were both 25 years old. They were married and owned a house with a mortgage, and throughout my life, they’ve always seemed like “real” adults.
I’m now older than they were when they had me. I’m turning 27 and, though I don’t want children, it’s sometimes difficult not to measure my life against theirs.
They got married at 21. When I was 21, I was finishing my bachelor’s degree in the middle of a pandemic. At 25, rather than having a child, I was moving in with my girlfriend, and we became cat parents.
In some ways, and especially when I see my rent money leave my account at the start of each month, I feel like I’m falling behind.
I remind myself that life is different now
I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. Milestones that have long defined adulthood — like getting on the property ladder — don’t seem as realistic to everyone my age as they did for our parents’ generation.
While I do know people around my age who’ve been able to buy a house, for example, it’s definitely not the majority of my friends. Even if I did want kids, I wouldn’t have even considered it in my 20s, saving that conversation for my 30s.
Also, income hasn’t risen to keep pace with rising housing prices. Becoming a homeowner in your 20s is simply not realistic anymore.
Still, I sometimes don’t feel like an adult
I don’t think any of my generation, especially my friends, truly feels like we’re adults. It feels like I’m winging it most days.
I haven’t followed any traditional path. I moved to another city for university at 18, completed my master’s in another city, then shared an apartment with a friend somewhere else, and moved cities again when I moved in with my partner.
Sometimes it feels like I’m a teenager cosplaying as an adult. But then I remember that I do have my life together. I live with my long-term partner and our cats. I have a master’s degree. I freelance full-time for a living, my finances are stable, and I try to be reasonably healthy.
Now and again, I’ll say or do something that makes me realize I am a “real adult.” I’ll mention something about personal finance in a conversation with a friend, or get really excited about my air fryer being delivered.
In some ways, I’m further along than my parents were at this age
My dad often reminds me that I’ve had more life experience than my parents did at my age. I continued my education, I’ve lived in multiple cities across the UK, and I’m more well-traveled.
My life is richer in ways that aren’t necessarily measured by the traditional life plan. Sometimes comparing my life to that of my parents has made me feel stressed, but I’m now more comfortable embracing my own path; after all, adulthood isn’t a race.
In December, I was on a boat on the Danube River with my girlfriend, drinking mulled wine and looking at Bratislava by evening as we enjoyed a well-deserved long weekend away from work before Christmas.
When my parents were the same age as us, they would have been at home with a one-year-old, and traversing adult life in a way I don’t think I’d be able to. Yet, looking back at when I was growing up, they made it seem so easy.
Neither version of your 20s is the objectively correct way to do it, but the contrast made me realize that I’m not falling behind or failing at adulthood. I’m simply doing it differently.
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