Living in Limbo: Navigating Uncertainty in My Twenties

I’ve never paused to think about life after uni. Having been in the education system since the age of four, I’ve always had a focus: an inner drive to complete my studies and do well in my end-of-term assessments. This motivator made me feel like I had a purpose to fulfil, like some twisted anthem ingrained in my head for 17 years, chanting, “Do well in your exams and you’ll do well in life.”

Truth is, no matter how hard I tried in school and uni, I was always going to end up in this weird limbo phase of my life — one with no obvious route to go down and no clear purpose. Some would call it a quarter-life crisis. I feel aimless and uncertain, with my conscience switching between two competing mindsets at any given moment.

On the one hand, I feel completely free and joyous. The world is my oyster. I can do anything I like with my days, and spend as much time as I want doing so. In fact, I own time. Everything is on my terms; I don’t need to answer to anyone or do anything I don’t want to do. Sometimes I’ll sing in the street or skip down supermarket isles just because I can. I’ll laugh loudly in public or compliment a stranger’s dress sense, because sometimes social barriers are best broken. I have never felt so wide-eyed and curious as I do now. I have a newfound, liberating “fuck it” mentality that I’ve never experienced to this level before.

However, another part of me feels so completely lost. I can do anything with my life, which is equally as exciting as it is terrifying. I’m thankful that I have passions, and know I’d like to eventually work in the journalism sector, but before I settle down, I’d love to travel the globe and see as much as I can. I wasted no time getting a a few jobs under my belt to afford my trip to Australia, because I knew if I stayed at home for too long, I’d grow restless.

Currently, I wake up everyday still slightly amazed that I’m even here, and have moments that are void of both negativity and positivity — moments encapsulated by disbelief that I’m halfway across the world doing strange day-to-day activities like hanging up my washing or doing Pilates. The mere fact that I’m living in Melbourne blows my mind. I feel like I’m running from something whilst also searching for something.

What connects both mindsets, however, is laughter. Everything seems to have comedic value, and I can’t help but find everything funny. The fact that I’m living with Freya in Australia? Ridiculous! Driving to the beach after dark with people I’ve just met? I never would have imagined this would be my life. It’s laughter that dissipates the seriousness from my thoughts.

In saying this, I know how lucky I am to be here — leading a simple, uncomplicated lifestyle halfway across the world, surrounded by good friends and doing whatever I please. Although the future may be undefined, I’m soaking up the present by appreciating the little moments and learning a lot about myself in the process.