6 Ways to Ruin Your 20s

By Warren Wong

There’s many ways to ruin your 20s, unhealthy and toxic habits that if I continued them into my 30s and beyond, I would be totally ruined.

It was a late night at university, and I found myself at 2 AM scrolling through Amazon looking for things to purchase. I had just returned home from a drunken stupor and didn’t want the night to end. So, instead my bright self decided to power up the laptop and scroll through today’s “Best Deals”, hoping to score. 

This was perhaps my first foray into my unfettered spending habits that would rack up hundreds of dollars in Amazon purchases for things that were less than useful. How I manage to scrounge up the little savings I had for useless purchases was beyond me. But somehow I always knew how to score.

What I did know and didn’t come to resolve until years down the road, was that if I continued on this way, I would be horribly broke, and my 60 year old Warren would hate me for the rest of his measly life.

Which gets me to my next point, of my parents. My dear old parents. Luckily I still have my mom and dad, which I can’t say all my close friends still do. And I took that for granted. 

It wasn’t until Tim Urban’s Wait, Tail End article that deeply illustrated just how little time I still had with them on this Earth. A quick summary of just how much time we still have with the people we love. 

If we spend 2 holidays with them, with 5 days each, every year, that would total around 10 days a year. Perhaps 6 hours of the day is actually spent with them, discounting sleep, errands, TV, etc. Leaving us with 60 hours a year. And if we have 30 years left with our parents depending on their longevity, then 30 times 60 is a measly 1800 hours, which equates to 75 days in total.

We get 75 more days with our parents. That blew my mind.

Yet, on the other hand,  I’d like to preface that my parents are great people, but I am of the belief that you shouldn’t care what they think. And before you start raging at me, and saying I’m a little disrespectful spoiled child, hear me out. 

The reason why you shouldn’t care what your parents think is that even though they want what’s best for you, it doesn’t make them know what is best for you. Read that again. 

I spent most of my 20s chasing their approval, and it left me lost, confused, and angry at the world. I made choices based on their life experiences, not mine. I spent so much time and energy chasing dreams and wants that weren’t my own. And it left me discombobulated, a fancy word for confused, and it made me angry at myself and the world. I don’t recommend it.

And so there was an entire process in my 20s dedicated to enjoying my own company. I needed to find myself, build my own identity, and follow my own path, not what others dictated to me.

This journey of self discovery manifested itself in weird ways. I started this blog, I began the bottomless pit of the self-improvement world, and I also made up my mind to join the United States Marine Corps.

Throughout this journey, I discovered a beautiful part of myself, my own company. Those thoughts in your head, the little voice of reason, and of pure irrationality. I cherish those moments as they unfolded and left an indelible mark on my body and soul. 

I learned to write. I learned to work with others. I learned how to deal with bad bosses. And I learned that I enjoyed my own company. Deeply.

As I bumbled my way through my 20s, I started growing into myself. It felt like a well worn shoe at this point. I knew where the grooves had conformed to my oddly shaped feet. I developed more self confidence. This allowed me to take bets on myself. 

I remember being a scrawny teenager roaming the streets of NYC on the way to school scared of the world, the people, and my place within it. I could have never imagined “taking a bet” on myself, nor could I even dream of any modicum of success. Yet, just 10 years later, it seemed like some small bets were starting to pay off.

If I could ruin my 20s I would say it comes with playing it safe, all the time. I found that betting on myself was the best gift I could give myself. And, not to say that I had this imagined confidence in myself, but it grew from a place of rationality.

I asked myself, “If there’s one person I have to spend the rest of my life with, then I might as well make the most of it.” I took a gamble to believe in myself, even when others didn’t. Plus, they don’t know me, as well as I knew myself.

Of course, there were also times when I faltered. And there were many. But, I like to think that I balanced it out on the grand scheme of things. Luckily, I didn’t completely destroy my 20s, and made up for it as my 20s were coming to an end. 

One thing that I didn’t take care of well, was my emotional health. Even now I cringe hearing the words “emotional health”. Mainly because I didn’t have any clue of what it actually meant. But, I knew that my “emotions” were tearing me apart, from the inside out. 

And highly susceptible young males watching film and media sees almost every male star gravitate towards alcohol, drugs, and reckless behavior when in a bad mood, which leads to very toxic behaviors as a coping mechanism. I was not spared.

My 20s were an emotional rollercoaster, flip flopping between chasing the social media highlight reel, and attempting to disconnect from the world. I landed somewhere in between. My emotional health took a toll, and now I prioritize disconnecting over staying “connected”. Life has gotten a lot better since.

Reaching my 30s was a milestone. And I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was scared of my 30s. See, when I was in my 20s, there was a lot of talk amongst friends that life goes downhill in your 30s. Your body starts hurting in places you didn’t think could, you start losing your hair, and generally getting totally out of shape and hating life. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

In stark contrast, I have never been more sure of who I am, and what’s possible in my 30s and beyond. I think it’s a false assumption rooted in fear of the unknown that can totally ruin our 20s, if we believe our 30s will be anything but great.

If I believed my 30s and beyond would be horrible, then I wouldn’t have invested my time, energy, and money to build my ideal life for my older self. In a way, my belief that life gets better became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

To my 20s, adios. To my 30s and beyond, let’s rock and roll.