Belonging somewhere and nowhere all at once
As a kid, I always envisioned people in their 20s as having already gotten their ducks in a row. They had everything figured out, and navigating life was as easy as one could imagine. Turns out, life does not work that way. And worse, things are even more uncertain. Obscurity, apparently, is a normal thing. Things that do not go your way just keep piling up, biting you back as much as you try to control them.
Being in my 20s now makes me think of that naïve little girl I once was. I can see her wandering, entering every room, getting lost along the way, yet still feeling safe. She was always that one person testing the waters, never taking the plunge. She was used to existing on fringes, suspended in the abyss, all while having fun doing so. And yet, she still longed for a sense of belongingness. Indeed, nothing beats the feeling of knowing you are where you are meant to be.
People always say that making mistakes is part of growing up. Relying too much on this notion is where I went wrong. It almost left me unprepared for the inevitable weight of reality. The present reality of being in your 20s is that you cannot afford to make cathartic mistakes; as you go through life, it will not be as forgiving. Growing up is holding on to that yearning that you can be so much greater. But growing up is also realizing that people in their 20s eat disappointment for breakfast.
Belonging manifests in different forms. You may feel it as you move into your new place and see someone in the elevator carrying a book called “A Little Life,” already halfway through as suggested by the placement of their bookmark. Or getting that good cup of coffee from your favorite coffee shop and finally buying that espresso machine you have been eyeing for so long.
Or taking that first sip of your favorite sinigang that your grandmother cooks every time you go home to the province. Or chancing upon a “thrifted” book as you pass by that iconic bookstore going to school. Or finally opening a “bookstagram” account you have always wanted to create, where you can spill your innermost musings and repressed thoughts and live out your pseudo-writer dreams.
As someone in her 20s, an only child, a medical student, and a would-be first-generation doctor on top of that, I cannot help but get drowned in thoughts sometimes. Being a doctor has been a lifelong dream. But if I am being perfectly honest with myself, a minute factor of immediately entering medical school after I graduated college was being scared of entering the real world. It was a matter of which one was more terrifying. Did I actually know this prior to making the big decision? No, for all I know, I might have just realized it while writing this.
Most of your friends are already securing jobs. One of them moves to a different country, while others, like many people in their 20s, are still in the midst of figuring things out—another glaring proof of my misconceptions. You see people going out on their Instagram stories while you are stuck reading “Robbins and Cotran Pathologic Basis of Disease,” pretending to understand.
It’s as if, at the speed of light, you were all thrown into the lion’s den unaware. And like clockwork, everything just reeks of unfamiliarity. We are part of a generation still grappling with the concept of belonging in a constantly changing world. The traditional definition of success—once anchored around economic stability, material possessions, worldly pursuits, and collective achievements as dictated by society—has shifted to a whole new structure. Validation from the digital realm is rapidly gaining ground as a more significant measure. This also paints a target on how we perceive self-worth, revealing its dwindling fate.
During a break from studying for our objective structured clinical examination, I asked my medical school friends, “What do you think my program in college would be if I weren’t in the medical field?” One of them said I would probably take up literature, and I agreed with her. It was that or creative writing, perhaps. I always say that in another life, that would be true. And it always puts a smile on my face thinking about it: in a parallel universe, I feel so much alive while being neck-deep in readings penned by dead writers.
But I truly believe that where I am now is where I really belong. I belong somewhere and nowhere all at once. After all, life’s paradoxical nature ensnares us all.
—————-
Andrea S., 23, is a second-year medical student who likes to spend her spare time reading books and raving about them on her bookstagram account: @andrea.readsss
