Tired at only 23
My parents used to tell me I was so full of life when I was a child. I put a lot of effort into both my academics and extracurricular activities as a student. I consistently received awards, and I liked participating in contests. Along with earning my parents’ excitement to drive me to different schools and places to get my medals and trophies, I also voluntarily signed up for dancing, tutoring, and art workshops throughout the summer break until junior high school because I knew being diligent would impress them.
If you asked me what my favorite childhood activity was, it would be participating in seminars, leadership training, regional and national scouting, and never playing with toys and people my age. I don’t even have a distant memory of playing with dolls, but I always remember holding a pen and paper.
I chose humanities and social sciences in senior high school rather than the programs my parents had expected, but I made up for it by getting high honors. They also didn’t predict that I would major in psychology, but I eventually received approval because I was performing well and only studied it for three years with decent grades. Now that is over, all that is left is a worn-out body.
I love my parents and will never use my words against them. I also know I was genuinely happy during those moments, and I acknowledge my privilege compared to others my age. But now as an adult, I am tired. I ask myself: “Why am I feeling this way? Was I overworked? Was I miserable?”
I am tired of trying to fit in as an adult. I remember being a kid whose only goal was to study, but now I am an adult who needs to be a functional member of society. I feel like I was only 19 yesterday with so much energy, hopes, and dreams. I was just a kid trying to get all the medals I could and a teenager fangirling over K-pop idols, but now I have to remember that I am an adult responsible for my life and making ends meet.
I started working a few months after graduation for a company operating in America. Knowing how competitive the market is for new graduates because the job search was extremely fierce, with the number of experienced workers, prior graduates, and terrible layoffs due to the pandemic making the competition even more intense, I was lucky even to get in.
The generation I belong to is often thrown into the pit of fire, and everyone expects us to adapt capably. The pressure to adapt and function daily while there’s a war inside you and many sociopolitical issues surround you is exhausting. And since I am so accustomed to operating completely, I often feel terrified and guilty for feeling lonely, not wanting to care for a bit, and burned out. Sometimes, I wish there was a pause button. That way, we can all take a break and stop caring for a while.
I will admit that I am drained, but I want others to know that it’s okay to feel this way. It is never a sign of weakness to recognize when we need a break or when we need to step back to refuel our energy. I remember being disconnected from everyone, and when I was back on my feet, I felt scared that everyone around me had also left me in the process.
Luckily, a friend told me that it’s okay to disappear to process our feelings and that it shouldn’t be used against us. There’s always a demand for people to function regardless of the turmoil inside them. However, I do hope that everyone can be compassionate because, at certain times, all we need to do is breathe.
I’m only 23, but I already feel beaten out by life. Being able to practice how to be a good student, daughter, sister, friend, and citizen sometimes gets draining. Finding a perfect balance to match everyone’s energy can take a toll. And despite how depressing this seems, I hope people will eventually understand that I do not want to end everything.
Despite not having the power to do things right now, I still want to live and build my dreams. I am tired, but I know it will get better. I am anxious to be misunderstood because all that’s left in me is this hollow space, and I don’t want people to remember me as a girl who’s constantly tired.
This is for those like myself who are grieving, exhausted, and vulnerable. This is for people who feel lost. I pray you find your energy and your way back. I want you to know that you are not alone, even if there seems to be a lot going on and there’s this immense pressure to keep moving forward. Breathe, then let go. We will be whole again.
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Adelaide D. de Leon, 23, is a US corporate worker and someone who seeks comfort through writing.
