23 Lessons I Learned at 23

23 was really more of a daze than an age in more ways than one. Gone in a flash, but also seemed to last forever.

24 is one step away from 25 (duh), and from what I’ve heard, that tends to be a pivotal year full of growth and trials and tribulations and—I swear, that’s what my whole life has been so far, and you mean to tell me there’s even more?? Like, specifically for turning 25? Please don’t.

But I digress. I’m always doing that, jumping ahead. Even right now, I’m trying to skip 24, a whole year of my life that somehow is already obsolete without even being here yet. Isn’t that just the way of things? Rushing, rushing, rushing—to what? Friday? The weekend? The New Year? The next age? Death?? Maybe take a seat and drink some tea, idk. Touch a leaf. Lay in the grass. Good grief.

Alright, enough pontificating on the constant barrage of time, let’s get into it—with tears, fears, many hurdles hurdled, and countless stumbles stumbled, I give to you 23 lessons I learned as a 23-year-old. Bon appétit.

General Growth

1. There is a healthy version of detachment

People so often attach their happiness to specific versions of the future. So much so that any deviation results in a total lack of motivation and can even cause despair. The idea that there is only one “best outcome” in any given situation is silly. We have our preferences, sure; but who can really say what the absolute best result is without knowing the whole picture?

I wrote about this a bit in my end-of-year overview, and since then, it’s only solidified.

I don’t know what’s best. Everything is a maybe until proven otherwise. Maybe it’s fortunate, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s unfortunate, maybe it’s not. Everything is a we’ll see until it isn’t.

2. Driving isn’t that scary all of the time after all!

Having a car has been such a game changer, it’s hard to remember what it was like before. There have been some learning curves, but overall, it’s been an incredible change of pace, and I’m so grateful for the freedoms I have now.

Turns out the only way to get through driving anxiety really is to just…do it. The best way I’ve found to gain confidence is to get a slightly older car that’s just yours, drive while alone, and drive often. No fears of messing up someone else’s ride, no worries about freaking out anyone else in the car (or being judged for your turning decisions), just you and your wheels and a mission.

And to everyone who said, “Oh, once you have a car, you’ll for sure meet someone!” I owe all of you money because, damn, you were right.

3. Give second chances but not third chances

Now, listen…I like to give people chances. I aim to exercise compassion and consideration regularly. No one is perfect, etc., etc.

But there’s a limit. There’s a line between compassion for others and a lack of self-respect. There’s a gray area between consideration and self-abandonment.

Not everyone deserves endless chances to cause harm and/or step all over you.

4. Actions continue to matter more than words, who would have thought

Words, words, words—I love them, I hate them, sometimes I put too much weight on them. I take what people say to me very literally. It’s an effort for me to translate sarcasm or lighthearted teasing or grandiose declarations that maybe were true at the moment but in reality, held no weight. 

Words are great, but I’ve found that actions truly are worth more at the end of the day. People can say all sorts of things, and they do. But the true power lies in acting on them. Following through. Being earnest.

I’m at a point in my life where people must prove what they say to me. I won’t run with it anymore. I don’t do subtext; actions, or nothing.

5. It’s okay to let someone help you; you really don’t have to do everything alone

It’s been a long and hard battle with my inner Strong Independent Woman to allow people to help me. It’s not easy for me to ask for help, let alone accept it. I tend to feel like a burden or as if I’m somehow incapable.

But it can be strong to admit when you need a hand. To recognize when you’ve reached the end of your rope.

There’s nothing wrong with being independent. But welcoming assistance can strengthen relationships, forge friendships, and create camaraderie.

Asking for help when you truly need it isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of wisdom. I’m still working on getting better at this, but I’m determined to find a happy medium.

Lifestyle Lightbulbs

6. You can give yourself asthma/temporary bronchitis from exercising too rigorously without the proper conditioning!! Groovy!

One of the first things I did as a 23-year-old was go on a hike with an extreme incline halfway through, as if that wasn’t out of the norm for my poor desk-shackled body, and promptly give myself bronchitis for a few days. Yeah…wouldn’t recommend. Great hike though!

7. Do NOT drink Pink Whitney like it’s water on a mostly empty stomach, you will get blackout drunk at a friend’s birthday party and cry off and on for roughly four hours

I mean, the title really says everything you need to know. I guess I could add a baseline of “Don’t drink when you’re heartbroken” but I feel like that goes without saying, all in all.

Alcohol rarely, if ever, improves anything, y’all. It’s true. Idk why I felt the need to prove this commonly known phenomenon last April, but there I was, cradling a trashcan like a dear friend and craving death. You’re welcome, I suppose.

8. Baking with dandelions is underrated (aka foraging is LIT)

I had such a good time foraging. Dandelions, flowers, berries, etc. Just the best time. If you haven’t foraged lately, I implore you to get out there and rootle around, it’s a great time. As long as you take the proper precautions. Speaking of…

9. You need proper gloves for pruning blackberry vines, regular gloves are not enough—also, wear jeans, you ninny

Three hundred micro-tears and dozens of pruned blackberry vines later, I realized I had errored in my choice of equipment. Those little thorns are SHARP. Straight through the gloves and in the boots. Not a bright moment. Do not what I do.

10. Stop thinking you can move furniture like it’s nothing, you will feel it

The days of hefting boxes and furniture and the like around without a thought or care are over. Very over. If you ask my left shoulder, those days have been over for a decade, but we don’t listen to left shoulder. My knees say it’s only been a year or so. My back is undecided.

Nevertheless, after successfully getting crushed by a couch section while heaving it up some stairs, I have come to terms with the fact that I have to get into better shape if I want to retain any level of effective furniture-moving abilities.

(I couldn’t stand up without feeling like a 90-year-old swamp witch for like three days after the couch saga)

11. Learning dance steps is so fun!!

Sure, I’ve only practiced in my living room, but the spirit is there. I’ve learned part of East Coast style swing dancing and a simple waltz—truly so much simpler than I ever imagined.

12. You don’t have to write linearly!!

I caged myself in the prison of linear drafting for a long time, sure that it was the most straightforward way to get a version down. Well, folks, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and there’s more than one way to write a draft.

I knew that, to a point, but now that I’ve experimented, I understand what that means on a deeper level.

Thinking of an outline in terms of scenes instead of chapters has revolutionized my drafting process, and I don’t think I’ll ever look back. If you’re a writer, I encourage you to try it. Write out a list of scenes, roughly sort them into which chapters they belong in (this will likely change), and start writing the ones that are the clearest/most essential/etc.

It’s freeing to jump around, and this approach helps gain a more authoritative idea of the story’s mission.

Non-linear story development has truly helped me progress as a writer.

13. Just do the dishes, I promise you’ll feel better

Everyone tells you not to go to bed with a dirty kitchen, right? Well, they’re on to something because the days I stay on top of the dishes and such always feel more put together, more productive, and overall better. It also inspires me to cook/bake more when the counters are clean and the sink is empty.

I haven’t always been the best at this, but ever since I’ve made more of an effort, I’ve noticed the ripple effects across other areas of my life. This isn’t an earth-shattering discovery, I know—but even so, it’s been making a sizable difference in my mental clarity and motivation.

Empty your sinks, folks.

14. Cooking is more fun when you stop worrying about following the recipe exactly

Look…I love to follow recipes. I love to follow rules (in most situations) and know that I’m doing the correct thing at the correct time. Well, you know what?? Sometimes, you just have to make something up and hope for the best.

There are really only a few main components to any meal, and if you get comfortable with enough of them, you can just…cook. And it’s so much more fun that way in the day-to-day.

I am free to recklessly add spices where no spices were called for!! And it will almost always be fine!!!

Miscellaneous Micro-Discoveries

15. Wuthering Heights is one of the most tragic stories I’ve ever read

I will be thinking about this book for a long time (probably my whole life—nothing fucks me up quite like a Brontë sister, I tell ya) Nothing could have prepared me for the level of disdain and frustration that was the truth of Wuthering Heights.

The characters were so detestable, yet I wanted them to succeed. It didn’t make sense. I knew they would continue to make the worst possible choices, but I found myself hoping, praying, that by some miracle, they’d pull it together and set things right.

Maybe that’s how I was supposed to feel as the helpless bystander, but, whatever the case, I couldn’t resign myself to their fates. If you’ve read it, you know what I mean.

The Brontë sisters continue to cause me emotional damage on the regular. I am afraid to start The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, but I must.

16. I’m not defective or angry, I just have hooded eyes

So many wasted years of trying to craft eyeshadow looks and cat eyes, confused and annoyed when they would disappear as soon as I relaxed my face, and all because I refused to recognize that my eyes are not simply almond-shaped, but mostly hooded.

It’s a small thing at the end of the day, but golly; the time I save by simplifying my eye makeup routine is blissful. It also helps me understand why I look angry so often, even when I’m not! ‘Tis but a swoop of the upper lid!

17. It’s KARMA Chameleon, not BECOME a Chameleon smh

My habit of constantly mishearing song lyrics persists, but so do I. After years of confidently singing the wrong words, I finally understand.

Does this matter in the grand scheme of things? Well, no. But it matters to me, dammit. 

18. You know what, I actually do like Britney Spears music, after all

Years and years of disinterest and apathy towards Britney Spears have ebbed away to make room for a genuine appreciation. Hit me baby one more time?? Fire. Oops I did it again? A banger. Everytime?? Amazing. Tears.

No longer shall I shame seasoned pop stars for vanity or self-absorption!! They did the best they could in a toxic industry and were lucky to survive!!!

19. If you’re buying a used car, CHECK THE LICENSE PLATE SCREWS

Good golly miss molly, I spent like a week trying various different tactics to replace my car’s license plates and eventually had to (with some much-appreciated assistance) drill new holes for the screws. 

I was lucky to be friends with the previous owner, so it wasn’t a big deal, but if you’re buying a used car from someone you don’t know, check the license plate screws!! If they’re rusted beyond belief, arrange for the owner to remove them before taking it home if you can. Or be prepared for a frustrating duel with multiple rust-removal hacks that do nothing.

20. The Duolingo owl really is aggressive; he has me learning French at seven am, good lord

The stories about The Owl are true. 

My phone goes off—”Oh, I wonder who that is,” I think; I reach to my bedside table, groggy but curious—and guess what?? It’s the Duolingo owl. 

“Ready for more French???” he says, staring at me with those wide, unassuming peepers. 

“Yes, your imminence, of course,” I mumble, hastening to open the notification. “J’étudie à New York, et toi ?” I whisper. The little correct sound effect fills me with dopamine. I smile, for the streak persists another day—I am indoctrinated, there is no escape.

21. Using a drill is not that difficult, but it does make more noise and has more of an impact than expected

Frrrrrt buzzing through my entire body with the force of a gunshot, man. Not that I know what it feels like to be shot, of course. Maybe I should say it felt like I was a phone on vibrate. I managed to somehow not drill my own hand, so I’m counting it as a win. Three cheers for cultivating new skills! 

And, no, that screw isn’t crooked, I don’t know what you’re talking about…

22. Sourdough is HARD oh my gosh (I cry)

Listen. I’ve read the articles. I’ve followed the advice. I have made ONE (1) successful loaf of bread (if you don’t count that the bottom was burnt) in the span of roughly two months since starting my sourdough starter and, at this point, I’m not sure if I care anymore.

Ugh. I do. I care so much. I’m going to keep trying because I WILL figure this out, so help me God.

23. Don’t wait until you can’t speak to go to urgent care!

Folks, tonsillitis is no joke. I was laying there trying to sleep a few more precious minutes, on day two or three-ish of feeling like absolute trash, feeling like I was drowning in whole body shivers type of pain, when I got the courage to get a flashlight and peer into my mouth and…well I’ll spare you the gritty details.

Basically my tonsils had swollen so much that my throat was about the size of a plastic straw so…yeah that’s not good. Que immediate revulsion! Onset panic! Why does it look like that?! Ahhhhhhh! If I swallow past all of that one more time I’m going to vomit!! After pushing all such thoughts to the side, I did some more Googling to see what it could be, found some concerning but accurate symptoms, and concluded that I did indeed need to go to urgent care.

Now that’s all well and good, but I could have saved myself the stress and panic of getting to that point if I’d taken my symptoms more seriously at the beginning. In my defense, it did escalate very quickly, but I knew something wasn’t right and I should have been more proactive.

Next time something starts messing with my ability to hydrate, ingest nutrients, and breathe (you know, the things that keep us alive…?) I’m just going to get ahead of it and get help because YEESH.

Let this be a message to all fellow “Eh, it’ll be fine! I’ll just get plenty of rest!” types of people. That approach only works if you can actually, you know, b r e a t h e.

After getting help (thanks Mom/Stepdad) and some amoxicillin, I am on the road to recovery and made it to my 24th birthday. Amen.

24 may be overshadowed by its subsequent year, according to the internet, but I’m going to do my best to make it count in the only way I know how: Boldly, relentlessly, and earnestly.