Just Thoughts

I feel like I haven't truly lived yet. For so long, I've been stuck in a cycle of constantly shifting the goalposts on what it means to "get my life together" and what success really looks like. When I look at my peers and classmates, I see people who have traveled the world, explored new places, partied, made lasting memories, earned real money, advanced in their careers, bought homes, found partners, gotten married, had children, and fully embraced their 20s, giving themselves permission to live life. While many of them are now settling down and finding stability, I can't help but feel like my life is just starting to take off at 30 (instead of 21-23) after spending so many years in and around higher education.

What does it really mean to live life?

I've asked this question to many people, and while each response has been unique, there are recurring themes: living without regrets, traveling and exploring new places, building and enjoying meaningful connections, embracing the experience, following the principles of a particular belief system, and pursuing one’s own dreams. I've always felt that the question, "What does it truly mean to live life?" often overlooks how certain structural, familial, patriarchal, societal, and capitalist systems can hold us back or create barriers to truly living. For me, living life has always been about stability and security. These concepts have been deeply ingrained in me since childhood. To me, stability means having enough money to live comfortably, while security means having insurance, healthcare, and the financial resources to handle unexpected challenges. It also involves being able to care for your loved ones and provide them with a decent life. Growing up with parents who were poor, it's easy to understand why these values were instilled in me. However, combined with societal expectations of what it means to be a man, I found myself measuring my worth primarily by my ability to provide. Throughout my 20s, I turned down opportunities, outings, and connections because I didn’t feel I was where I wanted to be. My goal was to reach a point where I could confidently say I was fulfilling the role of a provider.

At 30, I'll be finishing my PhD in May. I’ve never traveled outside the U.S. and have barely traveled within the states, except for conferences. I’ve mostly lived in Boston, MA at my parents' house or in Lexington, KY, where I’ve stayed on or near a college campus. I also had a brief stint in Los Angeles, where I rarely left my room unless it was for class or my internship. I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve been abstinent for 8 years, and I've never earned more than a graduate assistantship. However, I still managed to pay off my student loans last year. I don’t have children, and I haven’t owned a car since I sold mine to a family member when I left Boston, since I mostly walk everywhere on campus. Over time, I’ve also built a really unique personal brand.

Where does that leave me?

I've always been focused, disciplined, and intentional, but I've also struggled with fear, uncertainty, and self-doubt. For a long time, I used school as a form of escapism—running away from myself, my environment, and my old life. At the same time, I secretly used it as a way to pursue a nontraditional path, at first disguised by, but now grounded in, the identity of a scholar. It was easier to convince others that I was on track with school as the "main thing," while, behind the scenes, I focused most of my energy on building a nontraditional career and making a dream I've had come true.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering what might have happened if I had been brave enough to fully chase my dreams earlier, instead of following a path where I’ve spent so much time trying to prove to others—and to myself—that it was possible. I'll never truly know the answer, but I do know that after graduation, a big decision awaits me. Or maybe it's not as monumental as it feels, but it’s the first time in a while where the choice is entirely in my hands. What comes next is completely up to me, and I won’t have another semester of school, a biweekly underpaid graduate assistantship, or the comfort of living in a place where everything I need is within walking distance.

I’m approaching the end of one journey, only to step into a new beginning. And with this new start comes a flood of questions: Will I truly live my life, or will I always be chasing the version I’ve envisioned? Will I fully commit to the dream, or will I play it safe and look for security and stability elsewhere? What even defines security and stability in today’s world? Is it possible for me to have everything I want from life, or is that a path meant for a select few?

These are just thoughts that flow through mind when, deep down, I know only time will tell.