Turning 25 and Letting Go of Timelines

So, here I am, the day before my frontal lobe reaches full development (allegedly), reflecting on what it means to turn 25. It’s always seemed like one of those monumental ages—a milestone you go all out for, kind of like turning 21. But if I’m being honest, it feels like just another birthday in the most basic sense of turning a year older. And yet, there’s something about 25 that feels heavier—almost daunting. Maybe it’s because it’s the unofficial marker of being firmly in adulthood, or because my younger self had some wildly ambitious ideas about where I’d be by now. Whatever the reason, 25 comes with a lot of emotions.

When I was 15, I thought I’d be married by 25. Two years later, I imagined having my first kid, and by 30, I’d have a full-blown family. Hilarious, right? Especially since I’ve never even been in a relationship, let alone been in love. But I wasn’t the only one with this kind of timeline. Growing up, many of my friends had similar expectations. I’m not sure where they came from, either—if I’m being honest. My mom had my brother at 30 and me at 34, so it’s not like I had an example of rushing into these particular life milestones. Maybe it’s because, as kids, we based our futures on what society told us adulthood should look like—ticking off checkboxes like a to-do list: graduate college, fall in love, get married, have kids, buy a house, and somehow have it all together by 30.

Digging through my IG archives to find this throwback of me at 15

Here’s the thing, though: timelines like that don’t really make sense anymore—at least not to me. If they work for you, great, but during my time in college, I realized that I had to let go of those timelines. Life doesn’t follow a linear path, and “by 25” has turned into more of a vague suggestion than a hard deadline. A couple of years ago, I stopped living my life according to those numerical expectations. It was freeing, but also a little disorienting. I’m a planner, and organizing things meticulously is what I do—even if I don’t always follow through. Even now, it’s not like I have everything figured out—far from it—but I’ve learned that age doesn’t necessarily equate to knowing what you’re doing. Turning 25 is a reminder that maturity isn’t a milestone you hit overnight; it’s something you grow into, piece by piece.

Looking back, I think the pressure to hit certain milestones by specific ages came from the belief that by 25, I’d magically reach a certain level of self-awareness and security. It’s almost laughable now, considering how much I’ve learned simply by embracing the uncertainty of my twenties. These years have been messy, surprising, and full of growth. I’ve realized that the best parts of life happen when you stop trying to force it into a preset mold and allow things to unfold naturally.

I’ve always been sentimental on my birthday, no matter how old I turn, but this year feels a little different. December 14th is always special to me, and those close to me know how dramatic I get about it—though, in reality, I tend to keep the day pretty low-key. Turning 25 isn’t about hitting all the milestones or following some outdated blueprint for adulthood. For me, it’s about stepping into this next chapter with an open mind. I don’t know exactly what’s ahead, and that’s okay. If anything, 25 feels like permission to embrace the unknown—to dream a little bigger, take risks, and trust that I’m exactly where I need to be. Sounds kind of cheesy, but I wholeheartedly believe it.

To 15-year-old me: I appreciate you for dreaming so big, even if it was wildly unrealistic. You didn’t know it then, but life becomes so much more exciting when you let go of the timeline.

That isn’t to say I don’t still long for the things I wanted at 15—I absolutely do—but I’ve stopped tying them to a rigid timeline. As cliché as it sounds, I truly feel like my life is just beginning. After graduating college at 22 and getting laid off at 23, it felt like my life had come to a standstill. Sure, I’ve done a few things here and there, but now it feels like I’m finally moving forward. The past year has brought so much change, and 2025 already feels like the start of an exciting new chapter. Maybe it’s serendipitous that everything is aligning with my 25th birthday, or maybe it’s just the magic of milestones. Even though my younger cousin called me “old” on FaceTime last week, and a friend who’s less than a month younger than me dubbed me "grandma" now that I’m turning 25, I can’t help but feel hopeful for what’s ahead.

And now, here I am, writing this part a day after my 25th birthday, and I have to admit—being 25 feels pretty good. Sure, it’s only been a day, but hey, I’m calling it: I feel blessed. I celebrated with friends and family at one of my favorite restaurants in LA, a place I only manage to visit about once a year but still love dearly. I’m not someone who loves being the center of attention—it’s awkward, and it definitely showed when everyone started singing “Happy Birthday.” Still, the evening surprised me. I felt my heart warm in ways I didn’t expect, even getting a little misty-eyed during dinner and again on the drive home. I felt so deeply loved. My uncle’s heartfelt prayer after the birthday song, the endless photos we took, and the moments captured on my new film camera—a gift from my older brother—made it all feel extra special. It was the perfect start to 25. So far, so good—and I have a feeling this age is going to be one for the books.