Disappointment at the Edge of a Decade, Hopeful on the Brink of A New Year

I want to be very honest – more honest than I have ever been on this site: my 20s were a bit of a disappointment. If you told me on the first day of this decade, that I would be in the position I am in 9 years later.. Honestly? I’d curse you out (repent later), block you, and do everything to prove you wrong. And now, as I sit here – in my bed, pajamas on, chomping down on ice, freshly home from visiting family for the holidays: I’m disappointed.

When we move through childhood, adolescence, and eventually adulthood, we’re given a limited set of words to describe our emotions: sad, happy, mad, annoyed, angry, hurt, hopeful – but never disappointed. It wasn’t an emotion I thought I could feel toward anything other than people. I’ve realized that many of the emotions we’re “allowed” to choose from (sadness, anger, frustration) often stem from disappointment. Disappointment in people, in yourself, or in unmet expectations. And trust me, I had plenty of expectations for my life.

A few weeks ago, I sat with my therapist, and she asked me what my goals were for 2026. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was speechless – which, if you know me, is a rare occurrence. It wasn’t that I didn’t have goals. It was more so that when I tried to name them, all I could see was the same list I had written for 2025. Four out of five of them stared back at me, still unaccomplished (yet). The idea of carrying four of the same goals into yet another year felt sickening.

She told me to take time and think (we would work on verbalizing and writing them down together). I got off the call, and sobbed like a child.

You see, I’ve always measured my progress in life by the achievement of dreams. And because dreams are just fables without a plan, I spent the last decade doing everything I could to bring mine to life. I was met with limited success (for now). So what does that mean? My entire 20s were a waste? Do I discard the last decade altogether? Of course not. But if I wanted to recognize real growth over these past nine years, I had to learn how to find value outside of the milestones I set for myself. A process that is both painful and difficult.

So, as I close out 2025 and the final year of my 20s, I let myself sit in the disappointment for a few days. I cried. I prayed. I raged. And eventually, I woke up. My 20s were full of ups and downs, and while I’ve completed more things than I often give myself credit for, my growth isn’t defined solely by what I finished. It’s in what I’m carrying with me into a new year, a new decade, and the perspective I now bring with it.

Privacy Isn’t Obtained By Hiding, but By Establishing Firm Boundaries

I’m a hermit in a perpetual state of hibernation.

I’ve always been an extremely private person (since adolescence, really). I never imagined opening parts of myself up publicly, writing down my thoughts, posting reviews on films I’ve watched, or sharing any of it online. I talk endlessly with my family and friends, but even then, I eventually hit a wall. The conversations began to feel contained. I wanted to engage with new people and new perspectives. I wanted to speak on topics I rarely heard discussed publicly. Surely, someone else had the same hobbies, interests, and spiraling thoughts bouncing around in their head. I wanted to create space for that.

But thought of being seen and accessible to complete strangers made me want to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over my head. Eventually, through therapy and tonssss of talks with God, the truth came: Toluwani, you aren’t protecting yourself, you’re hiding out of fear.

Fear of perception.

Being perceived by people who don’t know me, people who can form opinions completely disconnected from who I truly am, is mind-wrecking. Naturally, I want to control the narrative. I want to share only what feels perfectly aligned with my “true self,” nothing that could be misinterpreted or used against me. But in doing that, I found myself stuck in a boring reality of my own making: surrounded by the same people, having the same conversations, and never being mentally stretched.

How does one protect themselves while showing up in unfamiliar and often unkind spaces? Boundaries.

I rejoined social media again for the first time in 3 years. In my thinking out loud, writing, posting, I learned that the monsters in my consciousness were merely figments of my imagination. I got to decide what I shared, how I showed up, and when I disengaged – entirely on my terms. I’ve mastered the Irish exit not just physically, but socially. Nothing outside my forcefield (my friends, my family, my inner circle) could penetrate unless I allowed it to.

Not a stranger, a publicist, an agent, a social media audience, or society.

Focusing on the Outcome Hinders Recognizing True Growth

What happens when you begin a year (or an entire decade) with dreams, hopes, and carefully written goals, only to arrive at the end without the kind of progress you expected?

When I look back on this past year, I can objectively say that far more good happened than bad. I joined many projects, I re-launched The Kitchen Conversation, I was invited into rooms and spaces I never imagined I’d occupy. Some of which are even setting the stage for an interesting 2026. And yet, as I close out the final year of my 20s, I’m met with a myriad of emotions.

I was so fixated on the outcome of my goals that I completely overlooked the progress I made along the way. Why do we do that? You don’t finish first in a marathon, so you convince yourself it was a waste. Completely forgetting that you ran an entire marathon in the first place!! The outcome matters, of course. But in working toward it, you are stretched, reshaped, and refined in ways the finish line could never fully capture. I’m still learning that progress isn’t about crossing things off a grand list, it’s what you’ve learned and how far you’ve come while working towards your goals.

When I slow down and actually take inventory over the last decade, I see how far I’ve come. I’ve completed school early. I’ve moved across the country, twice. I’ve secured my dream apartment. I’ve healed from heartbreak. I’ve made new friends. I published short stories. I traveled. I read countless books. I’ve worked and earned a great living. I’ve shopped (so… much… shopping). I’ve dined in new places. And I kept going, even when it felt easier to stop.

Now, the journey to the woman I dream of becoming is starting to feel and become much more fun than obsessing over the thought of actually getting there.

If You Have to Workout to Stay Fit Physically, the concept of Faith Works the same Way Mentally

In the midst of my disappointment, I allowed a quiet ‘what if‘ to slip into my consciousness. And it didn’t just pass through, it moved in, took up space, and mentally crippled me for weeks. For the first time in my twenty-nine years of living, preparing for a new year, I hesitated to dream big (shameless Marty Supreme plug).

That hesitation forced me to confront a hard truth: faith is a muscle. I was gifted with natural optimism, but that doesn’t mean it’s without work. At every roadblock, hardship, or disappointment, we have to work twice as hard to keep fear and doubt from taking residence in our minds. We have to work deliberately to reframe our thinking. To choose belief over anxiety and having hope rather than hesitation.

In the middle of the wilderness, faith is choosing to trust the roadmap you’ve already created. It’s believing that on the other side of planning, discipline, and stewardship exists something greater than you could’ve imagined. Something worth the work. Faith isn’t passive. It’s practiced. And like any muscle, if you stop using it, it weakens. But when you commit to strengthening it, it carries you farther than fears ever could.

You’re Doing Great Sweetie

I often cite ‘The Worst Person in the World‘ and ‘Frances Ha’ as films that changed my life entirely and films every woman in their 20s needs to watch. They’re straightforward yet deeply complex women who don’t have it all figured out. One is too hard on herself; the other not hard enough. Neither has arrived at who she wants to be. And that’s exactly where I find myself right now. I’m living in the narrow space between contentment and ambition, learning that life isn’t a sprint, but a marathon.

I am hard on myself. I overthink. I’m happy one moment and grumpy the next. I spend too much time wondering if I’m making my younger self proud. But because this year, I’m loosening the grip. I’m taking the pressure off yourself, babygirl. You’re human and you don’t need to have everything figured out right now.

It seems childish, but a establishing a routine has become my saving grace this year (besides JESUS). Getting 15-20k steps a day in, taking myself out for breakfast every Saturday morning, meal prepping, and going to the movies on certain days.

As hard as it is, I’m trying to rest in the present instead of rushing and obsessing about the future. Being grateful for where I am and how far I’ve come. And staying hungry for more. Both can exist at the same time. Truly, I’m doing the best I can – and that is enough.

As I step into my 30s and a new year, I can honestly say this: I’m still afraid that the disappointments of my 20s will follow me into the next decade. I’m afraid of stagnation, not progressing, and remaining in the same place. But what always knocks away that fear is something better: hope. Hopeful for the new projects I’ll sign on to. The friendships I haven’t made yet. The books waiting to be read. The restaurants I’ll dine at. The countries I’ll travel to. The clothes, bags, and shoes waiting for me to purchase (which I’m most excited for). I’m excited to turn my goals into accomplishments and I hope in doing so, I appreciate the small steps along the way.

And lastly? I’m excited to bring the same damn list of goals I had at the start of 2025. But this time, I’m leaving room to recognize growth as non linear while living a full life in between.