twenty-one lessons from my twenty-second solar revolution

i'm a month late, but let's ignore that; i underestimated how much 21 would be, and it made me feel old.

on my 21st birthday, i created a list in my notes app to fill with lessons i’d learn as a 21-year-old. i ended up having over 50 things jotted down from this turbulent, beautiful year. i went through them and chose 21 that i felt really captured what i learned over the past year. i’m still learning, and so i’m sure that a few of these aren’t really as true as i believe them to be right now—i’m actually very curious to see which of these i’ll disagree with in a year or so. nothing is really that revolutionary either, just revolutionary to me as a 22-year-old.

1. set and nurture your boundaries unapologetically

in this constant journey of self-discovery that is my 20’s, i’m learning that setting personal boundaries is like constructing the foundation of a building—it’s not just a good idea, it’s essential for stability and security. during my 21st year on earth, i realized that boundaries aren’t just about saying “no,” but about recognizing and respecting my own needs and values. it means being clear about what i’m comfortable with and what i’m not, and understanding that my time, energy, and emotions are precious—that not everyone is entitled to them, and that i don’t need to feel guilty for prioritizing my own well-being.

2. a clean space means a clear mind

it’s kind of wild to say that this revelation arose because of my admiration for a hinge date’s lifestyle, but regardless of how i came to this conclusion, i’m here.

over the last 21 years in the chaos of trying to maintain a balance of classes, responsibilities, and a semblance of a social life, i’ve eventually learned to be “ok” with clutter. i’d tell myself i’d eventually get to it anyway, and if i had enough socks to last me until i finish this project or enough space on the bed to pass out just for tonight, cleaning would never be a priority. yet when i’d finally force myself to clean, i’d always stumble upon the same truths: one, i actually enjoy cleaning; two, i actually enjoy having a clean space; and three, a clean space actually makes me feel so much better mentally.

i often joke (although, i’m also being entirely serious) to my friends and housemates that the state of my physical space always seems to reflect and influence the state of my mind. and interestingly, it’s not only the state of cleanliness, but also the process of decluttering that works wonders for my mental clarity and overall well-being. having that “clean space” helps reduce the volume on that constant, nagging voice in my head that reminds me of the things i have to do/haven’t done yet, which mentally exhausts + prevents me from truly being productive, creative, and peaceful in my day-to-day function.

3. don’t impulsively dye your hair on a thursday morning. or actually…

do it!!! call your friends to help and do a poor splotchy job and regret all your decisions leading up to this point. be afraid to facetime your mom for a week, and only call her with the lights off in your room at night. after feeling a continual pang of guilt, fess up and tell her it’s worse in person. seriously, though, do it. it’s still worth it.

there’s something to be said about allowing yourself to be spontaneous. it was never really that serious anyway.

4. you are only in control of so few things, so don’t waste your energy trying to gain control of the things you can’t control

i’ve spent so much time and energy over my lifetime trying to gain some sense of control over things i really don’t have any say over. yet, i’d always function under the fallacy that the more energy, the more effort, the more of myself i pour into trying to control a situation, the more successful i’d be in doing so. i’d feel so defeated when after doing everything i felt i could’ve done, i still couldn’t make things happen or stop things from happening or make people stay or feel a certain way for me. this past year, i feel like i just spent months trapped in a cycle of grasping for a sense of control and being disappointed at my futility.

coming to this realization was both liberating and humbling. it helped me shift my focus from trying to control the uncontrollable to a deeper understanding of what is within my power. while i can influence certain outcomes through my actions and decisions, many aspects of life are simply beyond my grasp. trying to control these things has never truly been productive and actually takes an immense drain on my mental and emotional energy.

instead, i’ve recently began to redirect my focus on what i can control: my responses, my attitude, my effort, and my values. and listen, this is so empowering. it helped me invest my energy into areas where i could actually make a difference and taught me to accept the unpredictability of life—to adapt to change rather than resist them. i’ve also found a sense of peace; by letting go of this need to control everything, i learned to be more present, enjoying and living now, rather than constantly worrying about the future or trying to change what can’t be changed. beyond this, i’ve become more resilient. understanding that certain things are beyond my control helped me practice adaptability and flexibility, helped me learn the value of letting go & moving forward, even when things don’t go as i plan.

5. you can buy flowers for your friends for no reason other than just because

it’s so easy to learn what their favorite flowers are, and buy them for your friends. you don’t need another reason to buy flowers other than you wanting to show you care and love them <3

6. slow down

i think the culture of the constant hustle and girlboss grind creates this pressure to always be doing something productive, to be creating, to aim to become some version of your industry’s “product mommy.” this became so, so, so overwhelming this year. i felt like i was losing myself in this cycle, measuring my worth solely by how much i was accomplishing each day, comparing my value to others by counting how many undertakings i could handle before i’d lose my grip. but this year, i realized just how unsustainable, and more importantly, unfulfilling this relentless pace was.

slowing down means being more present in every activity, whether it’s engaging in a simple task like enjoying a meal without my laptop open on youtube and my phone open on instagram, or spending quality time with loved friends and family without the urge to check my email’s inbox. it’s about recognizing the value in the in-between, the small moments, the experiences you’d miss by going through life as fast as you can.

after all, what have i been racing toward? what am i in such a rush to reach? i’d been telling myself since i was younger: you’ll appreciate staying in to study now when you’re in high school, and you won’t have to worry about studying as much later; you’ll be thankful for all of these all-nighters when you’re in college, and it’ll all be easier then; you’ll be happier in medical school if you just sacrificed your life today instead. i’d been sacrificing my present for the future, which looking back, i think would only grant me a sisyphean life—in medical school, i’ll be thinking of residency, and in residency, i’ll be thinking of fellowship, after that, my independent practice, and so forth until i’m once again at the base of the hill, eyes fixed on the mountain peak, unable to recall the breeze i felt at a dozen feet up, the melody the birds sang at the halfway point, or the view of the horizon at each sunset.

i don’t need a 10-year plan for you to know me.

7. love takes on many forms, but you’ll know it when you have it

when i was younger, i always envisioned love as grand gestures and declarations, sacrifices, and deep passion from someone who’d be absolutely infatuated with me. but my idea of love has gone through so many iterations, and i know it will continue to transform. i actually still don’t know how i’d “define” love; i think love comes in countless forms, yet its presence is undeniably clear. i know when i love and when i receive love. i’ve seen it in the compassionate glance from a friend, the silences in phone calls with my mom, the shared laughter with a colleague. i’ve also known the absence of it in gestures and declarations, sacrifices, and acts of deep passion.

love doesn’t always shout. it doesn’t need to.

8. don’t regret ever loving, even if it doesn’t end the way you wish it did

i think i loved a lot this year. i loved hard this year. and i spent way too much time regretting this, trying to erase experiences from my existence. what’s interesting, almost ironic, is that the more i wanted to forget, the more i’d cling onto the “what-ifs” and “if-onlys.” i viewed my love as lost and wasted, and i felt so naive and dumb for loving in the first place. my friends will remember me going on and on about how much i wished i didn’t love or feel as intensely as i do.

but, i think to love is a gift, and it’s one i feel i do well. so, why would i regret loving?

every experience of love, no matter how brief or how it ends, contributed to my life. these experiences, joyous or painful, shaped me, taught me about myself, about what i seek in connections, and about how i love. the end of an experience doesn’t negate what was shared during its course. i think it’d actually be a misfortune to minimize the laughter, the shared dreams, the moments of intimacy experienced; they remain as real and valuable as they did then. loving is a testament to our courage to give love and be vulnerable. it’s about honoring our capacity, our ability to love.

i’m grateful to have experienced loving.

9. closure isn’t real. the only closure you’ll ever get is within yourself, from yourself, through yourself

okay, here’s my woo-woo conspiracy theory from 21: closure is an inside job.

a text or a call or a conversation will not help you find “closure.” closure doesn’t come from a wealth of knowledge. it comes from finding peace with the lack of knowledge.

i don’t feel the need to say anything else about this.

10. if you really love something, you’ll work for it (and you’ll want to)

my entire tiktok feed this year was plagued with videos of “if he wanted to, he would.” at first, i lived, breathed, consumed this advice like it was air. the more i would see it though, i started resenting it. i think the original meaning slowly became convoluted with its overuse; the phrase, often used to signify that people will make an effort for things they truly care about, turned into a contradictory excuse for people to feel that they didn’t have the responsibility to communicate and put in effort. still, i think its original meaning holds, and it’s actually worked to redefine how i pursue my passions.

this year, i learned that genuine love equates to putting in consistent effort and showing dedication, whether it’s toward a personal goal, a hobby, or a significant other. when i truly cared about something, my actions naturally aligned with my feelings, manifesting as time and energy invested. it was actually amazing experiencing states of flow when i was doing what i loved, and i’d paradoxically feel energized and full after working and giving all day.

simultaneously, learning this about myself helped me understand others too. it became clear to me that when someone truly loves and cares about you, they will make an effort to show it, because they want to. i’m not talking about grand gestures that should be hinted at only once to test a partner’s loyalty or infatuation with you, but through consistent, small acts that demonstrate care and commitment in their own way. this was an insane revelation to me this year, even though it sounds so obvious in retrospect. it helped me start paying attention to people’s actions over words. this year, i fell victim to the trap of the allure of loving words and empty promises. time and time again, these situations would inevitably spiral into nothing, as the chasm between words and actions would grow too deep to overlook.

sidenote, i’m not sure if this is “cheating” to include, since i read it after i turned 22, but i wanted to add a quote that i liked a lot & reminded me of this:

“If a woman told us that she loved flowers, and we saw that she forgot to water them, we would not believe in her ‘love’ for flowers.”

Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving

11. nothing is just a mistake

every choice, every event, no matter how seemingly regrettable or cringe-inducing (there were just so many of these for me this year), is an opportunity for learning, for growth. each “wrong” turn opened new paths, every setback built resilience, and unexpected outcomes brought about new perspective. i actually think it’s when i “messed up” that i experienced life the most fully.

12. don’t shame yourself for having the thoughts and feelings you tell yourself you “shouldn’t” have. acknowledge them, accept them, and allow yourself to live alongside them

there’s some emotional authenticity when you allow yourself to feel shamelessly. i really mean it. i found that telling myself i shouldn’t be thinking or feeling a certain way only really made me feel way worse. by doing a lot of uncomfortable introspection this year, i realized i’d been preventing myself from being human. i was holding myself to these standards where i wasn’t allowed to feel sad or frustrated, that i shouldn’t miss them or hate them or love them.

so this year, i’ve been trying to start thinking of my emotions just as messengers, not enemies. they reflect aspects of my experiences and inner worlds, guiding me to the hidden recesses of my mind to unveil neglected needs and unhealed wounds i otherwise would not have recognized; they become catalytic for deeper understanding and transformation. and by dismantling the rigid barriers i constructed against “undesirable” emotions like envy, insecurity, or even unwarranted elation, i was able to clear out space to acknowledge and examine every emotion with kindness and curiosity. i’m still trying to navigate living alongside these emotions too. i think it means developing a more mindful equilibrium, a state of awareness where feelings are experienced fully but observed from a place of centered calm. it’s not about reducing the intensity of how i feel, but about guiding response with discernment and reflection instead.

13. show yourself the grace you give others

so, so, so often, i am my own harshest critic. i forgive friends and family (and even those who have hurt me profoundly) for their flaws and mistakes, and still hold myself to these impossibly high standards. this year really taught me the impact of treating myself with the same kindness and understanding i would show to people i care about.

embracing this meant learning to be patient with my own process of growth, and acknowledging that i am a work in progress, like everyone else. it meant allowing myself to be human, to drown out the voice of self-criticism with one of self-encouragement, to also allow myself to exist as i am now, and not just as a continual self-improvement project.

self-compassion is really big. i think the journey to loving others does start with loving yourself, and self-love is cultivated through a gracious understanding and acceptance of our own humanity.

14. spend more time intentionally alone

i spent a lot of 21 alone. this sounds really sad, i know. but, it’s actually one of my favorite blessings of this past year. turns out that spending time intentionally alone is kind of amazing, actually, and i promise, it’s nothing antisocial; it’s not hiding in a little cottage in the forest, turning your phone on do-not-disturb, and renouncing every human connection you ever had. by choosing to deliberately be alone, i experienced what it means to sit in solace and be happy. i experienced self-discovery and allowed myself to process life.

i’ve always been someone to seek out connection constantly. in high school, my friends would describe me as “bubbly.” i wanted to be popular, not in the sense of being cooly unapproachable and idealized, but more in the way that i would want to be your friend. if i could, i would’ve wanted to have been friends with everyone. i think i entered university jaded and socially confused by the year-long covid-19 lockdown, but i still feel the same as i did then. i still really want to make friends and to spend time being with as many people as i can.

but this year, i wanted to try something different. while i know it’s so enriching to fill my life with love for other people, i began to long for time alone. i began dedicating moments to solitary activities—reading in little cafes, walking to the park, or sitting with my thoughts in the tranquil quiet of my room. these moments alone were never about escaping others but about connecting on another level with myself. without external influences and distractions, i felt like i was finding clarity and insight into my own desires, thoughts, and feelings, stripped of societal roles and expectations.

and i didn’t know this, but spending time alone actually ended up enriching my relationships with others. it made me feel more comfortable in my own company, and i started to view connections as happy additions to my life, not distractions to pack into the voids in my life.

it’s really uncomfy for me to be alone, still, but i think i’m finding how to be content with my own company, how to listen to my thoughts, and truly enjoy it.

15. ubereats usually isn’t worth it

your bank account is calling. she’s dead.

i’m kidding (not at all), but while the convenience is so tempting, when you weigh it against the cost and occasional cold french fries, the charm kind of wears off. honestly, how many times can you really be happy ordering dinner from taco bell?

this is more of a resolution, but i’m working toward learning to trust my cooking skills more—or at least to pick up my takeout the old-fashioned way (i cannot tell you how many times i ordered from a restaurant down the block; it’s embarrassing, really). i really love grocery shopping too (see my other substack post), so why would i rid myself of this joy anyway?

16. you can learn from pain and coldness without losing your warmth and kindness

pain and indifference decided to take up the roles of being my personal teachers this year. while it seemed like they worked endlessly to expose me to the human experience, i learned that i didn’t have to diminish an inherent warmth and kindness because of it.

i’m sure you can discern some pattern in the lessons i shared above that this year was a little rough for me (i mean, i joined substack, what additional evidence do you need?). as i navigated through colder currents—the sting of betrayal, the chill of rejection, the icy grip of loss—i found that these experiences were hardening me, and i became envious of those who could remain indifferent. i wanted to be as unemotional as a pebble, so i began pretending to be nonchalant, hoping that it’d eventually stick. it didn’t, and i’m grateful.

i’ve noticed that the real challenge is in not allowing these experiences to turn my heart cold. it’s about finding a balance where i could take these lessons, learn from them, and still maintain my innate kindness and warmth. this meant reinforcing a resolve to be kind. kindness was never a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength. it takes courage to stay open-hearted and compassionate, especially when life presents situations that’ll push us toward cynicism and detachment.

by choosing warmth and kindness, i’m not ignoring the pain and coldness—just deciding that i can rise above them.

17. when you feel like you have too many thoughts, write. not enough? read

i ran out of iphone storage this year because my notes app was filled with hundreds of documents. hundreds. these notes were filled with little thoughts and observations, rambling pages of emotional catharsis, and delicately drafted texts. writing actually became my sanctuary for times when my mind was buzzing, each thought vying for attention. it was nice being able to untangle my mental mess into something with at least a little shape, form, and clarity.

i also fell back into reading late this year. i forgot just how addictive it is to read, to go beyond the confines of my current understanding, to explore new thought and imagination.

it’s so fulfilling to ground and express myself through writing while expanding and replenishing my thoughts through reading. i really want to keep reading and writing from now on.

18. just say it

speak your truth and say it loud.

unspoken words hold this weight that can burden both mind and heart. every time i felt like i needed to express a difficult truth, share a deep-seated emotion, or voice some long-nurtured dream, the act of verbalizing some part of my inner world brought a sense of liberation and authenticity to my life. it was like saying it out loud was me acknowledging its significance, giving it the respect and space to stretch and grow that it deserved.

having the courage to actually voice my thoughts, feelings, and ideas that i’d often brush under layers of hesitation and self-doubt truly freed me. conversations took on deeper dimension, interactions became more meaningful, and my own experience became clearer to me. i really do believe vulnerable honesty builds stronger, more genuine connections.

19. you don’t have to consume to have an identity

i feel like i’ve based a lot of my identity on my consumerist mindset—the clothes i wear, the movies i watch, the makeup i use. i kept buying and consuming. still, i never felt like it was enough. i felt like i was trying to create an identity for myself through the things that i’d consume. but, i really don’t think our true essence is defined by these things.

my consumption began to feel like fluff to fill some void, to make me feel like i could fit in through having a specific style or look, rather than by expressing my real self.

i’m starting this journey of disentangling my identity from my possessions now. i noticed how many accounts i’d follow on social media who would only show me all the things i “needed” to have. i began unfollowing them, trying to focus on what i think matters more to me—my hobbies, my values, conversations and causes i actually can care about.

and i’m not renouncing consumerism entirely. it’s more of me trying to find a new balance. i still love shopping, and i love fashion, and i love all these things. but it’s recognizing that there is also joy in simple things and experiences that you can’t attain through consuming.

20. it is a false dichotomy

growing up, i often heard and saw femininity depicted in this narrow, one-dimensional way. it seemed boxed in by stereotypes of delicacy, passivity, and emotional vulnerability. i remember these reiterated conversations and observations from kindergarten, even: girls would cry while boys would fight; girls are pink, and boys are blue; girls can be nurses, and boys can be doctors.

being 21, i felt like there was this growing pressure to start being more serious, to grow up. i wanted to be taken seriously, so i threw out my pink backpack and stopped wearing dresses. i took off all the cute stickers on my laptop and changed my iphone case to be just clear. being feminine, sweet, and girly was, to me, the surefire way of losing respect—no one would take you seriously, think you were intelligent, or see you as anything beyond a little girl.

for a long time, i’ve been laboring under the misconception that respect was synonymous with masculinity. i thought that to be taken seriously, i had to shed my feminine traits. but i’m renouncing this.

respect has nothing to do with aligning with traditional notions of strength or gender. i think it’s earned. something you gain through the value you provide, the kindness you extend, and the presence you bring to your interactions. it’s about being authentically you, embracing every facet of your personality.

you really don’t need to choose one or the other. there are so many situations i’ve encountered where the choices weren’t just A or B, but a spectrum of possibilities that defied binary categorization. simplifying these to false dichotomies only really limited my vision to these choices; whether it was in personal relationships, career decisions, or even my beliefs and values, i found that the real answers often sat in the nuances, beyond the apparent dichotomy.

21. you definitely don’t have it all figured out, and that’s okay—good, even

re: this entire list