I'm sat watching 'My Mum, Your Dad' with my 80-year-old Grandma in Penrhyndeudraeth, a small village in North Wales, while my friends are having a blast in London with brunches, park runs and pub hangouts.
It's the same life I was living just a week ago when I celebrated my 29th birthday on the vibrant streets of Camden. But now, it feels like a world away after I moved into the back bedroom of my Grandma's house to figure out my next steps (read: how to get myself back on track after a difficult two years of chasing a new career).
As my boyfriend sends a picture of his 'after work' pint, I can't help but wonder what I might be missing out on - the time I could be spending with him, my friends or my brother. But more than anything, I'm filled with anxiety about the expectations I feel I'm not living up to by making this move.
During the pandemic, I often daydreamed about the fresh Welsh sea air and the freedom to roll out of bed, slip into my wetsuit, and dive into the ocean. However, no matter how much I jokingly fantasised about that life, it wasn't something I thought I would embrace in my twenties. Yet, here I was, at 29, boarding the train to reside in the small back bedroom of my grandma's house, until who knows when.
Usually, returning home felt like an opportunity to escape the late-night home improvements of my neighbours and the ceaseless train rumblings beneath our city flat. I’d watch the scenery change as the train whistled from London, through Crewe, and onto the coast of North Wales – filling up with joy as I saw the sea come into view. But unlike before, this wasn’t just a short-term escape, and the joy was slowly being replaced by a mix of excitement and anxiety.
I needed a break, a respite from the overwhelming pressure of living up to ‘city life’, and deciding to move back to Wales felt like finally acknowledging where I’d been mentally stuck for the past two years.
In 2021, I made the decision to leave my job at an HR-Tech firm to pursue a new career path. I knew it would take a while to find my footing and even though I’d made good progress in my studies and developed a solid professional network, I hadn't found a full-time job. I reached a point where the balance between fulfilling my financial duties and chasing something I wanted made me anxious and the constant comparisons to my friends who were excelling in their careers made me feel inadequate. When I was alone I would start to question what I was doing, why I was doing it and was it what I should be doing?
On the surface, my life in London seemed perfect – it was filled with constant celebrations, going to gigs with my boyfriend, and frequent visits to the lido. To my friends and my family it was a picture of the life I always wanted. But, beneath the surface, my daily reality was vastly different. On my days off, when I was alone in the flat I shared with my partner, it was like dropping from a serious high to a serious low. I had completely underestimated the mental toll it would take on me and over time I began to resent the space I was living in because of the way it made me feel.
I started to obsess over how unclean and rundown it was and how annoying our neighbours could be and on days where I felt low, it would only make me feel worse. Unfortunately, with the rising cost of rent, moving was not an option. We had been fortunate that our landlord had kept our rent stable in 2022, only raising it by £100 when we renewed our lease this year. Compared to some friends who struggled to find affordable and decent housing, we felt lucky. Still, I was stuck in a flat that I felt was suffocating me.
I considered going back to work full-time, just to get out of the house, but my partner encouraged me to keep pursuing something I loved. While his intentions were good, he didn't fully grasp the guilt I felt. Every moment of free time I had outside my part-time job felt like an obligation to study or job hunt; otherwise, why was I doing it? If I had an unproductive day, I spiralled into self-hatred, feeling that I should be working harder to return to “normal."
Moving back to Wales was always a last resort, but I kept getting caught up in my thoughts and emotions, and the weight of it all had taken a toll on me. But, deciding to make the move had its own set of difficulties and uncertainties, and it wasn't a choice I made lightly. Not only did I have to think about the practical aspects of uprooting my life but how could I explain it to others?
I knew I’d face the same questions from friends in Wales that had been asked by friends in London. "Why are you going back?" "Are you and your boyfriend okay?" "What about your barista job?" "What about your writing?" Even though they were well-intentioned, they were difficult to answer. I had never previously worried about checking off milestones by a certain age, but lately, it felt like there was an unspoken deadline I was racing against. Moving home and attempting to explain my life decisions only brings to the forefront those expectations I feel I’m not living up to.
This has ultimately been magnified by the fact it’s a decision that not only affects me but my boyfriend too. We’ve been together for seven years now and we’ve lived together for four. In society's eyes, we should be at a point where we were making decisions on whether or not we would be getting married or having kids.I've always believed that life unfolds at its own pace and I’ve never been one to be concerned about these traditional milestones, I couldn’t help but wonder what other people might think.
The spotlight on age makes these obligations feel even more overwhelming, particularly as women. We’re constantly fielding questions about a house, marriage, kids and are reminded of the constant ticking of the ‘biological clock’. In light-hearted chats my boyfriend’s mum would remind us she had had three kids by now and my friends would tease that I'd be hitting the "big 3-0" next year.
Despite being light-hearted jokes, paired alongside my own insecurities of having no job, it only perpetuates the feeling of anxiety that I’m falling short of expectations. If society handed us a cosmic checklist I was nowhere near ticking it off and I was anxious my friends at home would think that too.
To help gain some sense of these feelings I sought advice from Dr. Marcia Reynolds, a life coach and behavioural scientist. Her insights shed light on the fact that pivotal moments in our lives, like the one I find myself in, are golden opportunities to explore our identities, desires, and potentials. There's a lot wrapped up in the idea of 'should,' and it’s hard to let go of: "In our early lives and careers, we often follow 'shoulds' rather than our desires. What I find is that women usually recognise earlier that this isn’t what they want for themselves.”
She goes on to explain that, much like the 'trying twenties,' this phase is an age of exploration. "In my research," she said, "as we transition from our twenties into our thirties, there's a constant question: Who am I? What do I truly want for my future? It can be bewildering because we were taught what we should do and what we went to school for, but new passions emerge, leaving us questioning if this is truly what we want.” You only have to scroll through platforms like TikTok and Instagram to see people of all ages redefining their paths regularly.
While I’ve returned home in a pursuit to better my own mental health and give myself a break, it's reassuring to know that I'm not alone in my journey. According to the 2021 census, the share of 25- to 29-year-olds living with their parents had risen from around one in five (20.1%) in 2011 to more than one in four (26.7%). While some may have moved back home due to the high cost of rent, research found that many of those who did so were also on their own unique paths; saving for houses, not yet married, or were simply in no rush to leave.
While it undoubtedly feels like a significant step backward, I know deep down that it's the right decision for myself, and in the long-run for my partner and our future together. I didn’t expect to feel this way, and those subconscious expectations find a way of creeping into our lives. So, even though societal ideas of what we "should" do are constantly evolving, it can be tough to let go of the expectations that have been ingrained in us by others but also by ourselves, especially when we associate those expectations with age.
I don't expect to be here forever; after all, my partner still lives in London, and I miss the spontaneity of going to gigs and meeting my friends at the pub. But for now, it's an opportunity to spend time with my grandma and my mum, reconnect with friends I haven’t seen that often, take long walks on the beach, and finally have that sea swim.
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