(ENG) On Turning Twenty

Pic cr. to pinterest

When most of my friends are about to turn twenty-one, I’m only just about to taste twenty.

Can you believe it? It feels like just yesterday I was celebrating my seventeenth birthday back in my senior year of high school — and now, suddenly, I’m on the edge of my twenties.

Lately, my family’s been laughing every time I mention how I can’t believe I’ll be twenty this December 11th, inshaaAllah.

If someone asked me how it feels to finally be at this so-called “quarter-life crisis” age, I’d say… it’s a mix of everything. I didn’t think it would feel this heavy. I didn’t expect anything grand out of being twenty — yet here I am, facing all these messy waves of life, looking around and wondering, “Why does everyone seem to have it all figured out while I’m still stuck here?”

I let myself go to bed carrying a pile of worries, and wake up with the same ones that never fade — it’s like sleeping doesn’t fix anything anymore. Weird, right?

Yeah, really weird.

I feel strange for having feelings that just won’t end. Morning, noon, night — all the same. I keep hitting myself with reality, and it hurts deep inside. It might sound dramatic, but I believe a lot of people feel the same way right now. Especially after the pandemic — everything feels off.

Going to campus feels heavy, but staying home to study feels even heavier.

So what do I want? I just want things to feel easy. But the truth is, nothing in life ever feels easy — unless you’re dead. Honestly, at this age, it feels like I used up all my luck back in middle and high school. I’m exhausted.

Last year, when I wrote about turning nineteen, I don’t think it felt this heavy.

But now… it does. So heavy that I don’t even know what I want to do tomorrow — other than survive another day.

From Monday to Thursday, I let college own me, crying every now and then, crying to Allah because I want more out of life. Ugly crying — like, really ugly crying — at least once a week.

Friday, I try to let myself breathe a little, even though I know I’ll carry another set of burdens for the next week.

Saturday and Sunday, I work. I earn a little money — enough for my needs, my snacks, so my parents don’t have to think too much about me.

And I just want to say this: to everyone born into comfort, who never had to worry about tuition fees or transportation or how to make ends meet — please, be grateful.

I’m not saying my life is hard — it’s not. My life is enough. More than enough, actually. But because I feel it’s enough, I want my parents to stop worrying about my future. I want this feeling of “enough” to stay — to stretch far into the years ahead. I want to reach the day when I can finally give that same sense of “enough” back to my parents.

When that day comes, I want them to just sit back at home, resting in peace, worshipping in calmness, watching me live a life that’s filled with sufficiency and gratitude.

Looking at where I am now, it might sound impossible to reach the kind of success people usually talk about — money, big house, fancy car, a life so complete that nothing ever feels expensive again.

That’s the kind of “success” that suffocates me.

Please, stop saying success is all about money.

Sure, people will respect you, recognize you, even idolize you if you have achievements, money, and power. That’s how the world works.

But for me, success is more than that.

What does it look like?

When I see someone enjoying what they do — that’s success.

When someone feels content earning a modest 100,000 rupiah a day — that’s success.

When I see my parents raising us in a healthy, loving way — that’s success.

When I see my sister step out of her comfort zone to teach kindergarteners — that’s success.

When I see my dad leaving early, coming home late, yet managing to put us all through school — that’s success.

When my mom takes care of everything at home, cooks amazing food, helps my little sibling memorize almost seven juz of the Qur’an — that’s success too.

There are so many forms of success that money can’t define.

In this piece, On Turning Twenty, I just want to remind people to believe that everything will be okay.

This writing is also a quick reminder for myself — a small anchor to hold on to every day. Because if I don’t hold on, I might just lose my mind.

When you look around and see everyone else thriving — with endless awards, medals, achievements — it’s okay. Maybe that’s their definition of success.

But if yours isn’t based on medals, titles, or wealth, that’s okay too.

If you can make your parents smile every day — that’s already an achievement.

Because there are many people with countless achievements who still fail to respect their parents.

What kind of success is that, really?

That’s my point.

Success looks different for everyone — we each have our own life map, and every map leads to a different destination.

So, to anyone going through a quarter-life crisis like I am right now:

Be strong. Smile more. Give more. Pray more.

You’re going to be okay.

Live according to your own map.

Smile at how far you’ve come.

That’s more than enough reason to keep going.

Really — thank you for still holding on.

Thank you… for staying.

And to you, who are about to turn twenty — don’t be afraid of all the “crises” people talk about. Because if many have made it through, I know you can too.

The world might get tougher, but so will you.

Turning twenty — it’s hard, of course it is.

But someday, I’ll look back at this time and smile, because if I can make it through this, I can make it through anything.