[Ad] In my 20s, I always spent more time thinking about tomorrow than today.
I believed that once I got the job I wanted, met better opportunities, earned a bit more money, or became closer to the person I aspired to be, life would finally feel much easier.
So I thought it was natural to endure some hardship until I achieved something. Putting off what I wanted to do, being unable to rest without guilt, and not really liking my current life—I considered all of these just passing phases.
Because things would change later.
But strangely, achieving one goal didn’t make that feeling disappear. When one thing ended, another goal appeared, and I kept running toward the next one.
Then, suddenly, this question came to mind:
When exactly can I start living my real life?
Looking back, I don’t regret the time I spent dreaming or striving to achieve those dreams. Rather, I think that time shaped who I am today. However, there was one thing that made me struggle:
Until I reached where I wanted to be, I treated my current life as merely 'time to pass through for the sake of the future.'
It’s not strange to feel this way in your 20s. There are so many things you want to change—your career, money, relationships, and yourself. Naturally, you end up expecting more from your future self than from your present self.
The problem is that as this expectation drags on, the life you are actually living keeps getting pushed aside.
Does my real life only begin when that dream comes true?
Recently, while reading author Jeong Ji-woo’s book "Don't Obsess Over Misfortune," I pondered this question deeply.
This book repeatedly discusses how to view your current life rather than seeking happiness in grand futures. It talks about turning today's problems into whole-life problems, missing out on the present by endlessly looking toward better possibilities, and believing you can only be happy after meeting all conditions.
As I read, the stories in the book strangely overlapped with the worries I repeated during my 20s.
So, based on this book, I want to share four stories I wish I had known earlier.
1. Think about 'what kind of day to live' before 'what to become'
In the past, when imagining the life I wanted, I always first thought about 'what I would be.'
What job I’d have, how much I’d earn, and how people would see me.
In my early 20s, I strongly desired a job that looked impressive to others. I thought having such a job would make me a much more satisfied person.
So for a while, I lived quite hard toward that future.
Eventually, I got to do work similar to what I had wished for, and experienced people viewing me positively.
But once the dream became reality, it felt different from what I expected.
Although I had gotten closer to the image my younger self wanted, strangely, the feeling of 'finally living the life I wanted' wasn't as strong as I thought.
Instead, I became curious for the first time:
**“Did I really want this job? Or did I want the life I imagined someone with this job would live?”**
Thinking about it, many things we want are like this.
Wanting to get hired at a good company isn't necessarily about wanting just a business card with a famous company name on it.
Maybe you want to be recognized for doing well at what you're good at, feel like you're growing during work hours, and come home feeling like you spent the day well.
Wanting to earn a lot of money is similar.
A life where you don't check prices every time you buy something, occasionally eat good meals with people you love, and don't have to give up on travel plans because of money first.
Perhaps what we truly want is closer to that kind of daily life.
But if you stare at one dream for too long, the original reason you wanted it fades, and eventually only visible conditions like company names, salaries, or titles remain clear.
I realized this quite late.
In "Don't Obsess Over Misfortune," there is a sentence: "Humans are verbs, not nouns."
The author says that the person who writes today becomes a writer, and the person who loves today becomes a lover. Names and jobs are ultimately just 'labels' attached after our actions; people continue to change based on what they do today.
Especially, the idea that "what you are doing today defines who you are" lingered in my mind.
We often think that a writing life begins only after becoming an author, meaningful work starts only after getting a good job, and we can only become the person we want after succeeding.
But actually, the order might be reversed.
You become a writer by continuing to write today, and you become someone who does important work by repeating tasks you value.
So nowadays, when imagining the future, I ask myself a slightly different question:
What ordinary day is the version of me living that life spending?
If you want to live doing what you love, you don't have to wait until you get into the specific company you want. You can try doing a little of what you love today, or set aside time to study a field you want to improve in.
If you want a life less tied to money, you don't need to anxiously wait until you've earned a lot. Instead of casually spending money on things others say are good, you can start by choosing to spend money and time on what you truly like.
If you want to live your life more according to your own will, you don't have to wait for all conditions to be met. You can decide how to spend the next hour or two tonight.
Thinking this way reveals that the life you thought existed only in the future unexpectedly has room to enter your current days.
Of course, this alone won't instantly get you your dream job or make you rich. You still need goals to achieve and effort to put in.
However, it means you don't need to live all the time before achieving them as 'not yet the life I want.'
So when dreams feel far away, I now separate two things:
**What I want to achieve, And what kind of day I want to live once I achieve it.**
Separating these two reveals surprisingly actionable steps right now.
2. Allow yourself one of the things you reserved only for your future self
In my early 20s, I had a habit of saying:
“I’ll do it when this dream comes true.”
I'll rest peacefully when this goes well. I'll go on a nice trip when I earn more money. I'll start other things when my work stabilizes.
At the time, this seemed quite natural. I thought since this was an important period, I should endure the hardship and properly live my life after achieving what I wanted.
The problem was that 'that time' rarely arrived.
Achieving one thing created another goal. Previously, getting a job was everything, but after getting hired, I wanted to switch jobs. After settling in, I saw more deficiencies.
In the chapter "Don't Postpone Happiness" of "Don't Obsess Over Misfortune," there is this sentence:
If you postpone happiness until you have everything, even at age 60, happiness may seem impossible.
This part stung me.
For a long time, I viewed happiness as a reward following goal achievement—rest given to those who worked hard, leisure given to those who succeeded, self-satisfaction permitted only to those who were sufficiently okay.
But this sentence resonated especially because humans rarely reach a moment where they 'have everything.'
Fame has no end, earning money has no end, and careers have no end.
Thinking about it, it's true.
I thought getting a job would be the end, but then I wanted a better career. Once I earned some money, I wanted more financial freedom. Getting what I want now seems like it would complete my life, but upon arrival, new lacks become visible.
Thus, happiness keeps getting pushed back one step at a time.
But if you think quietly, it's strange.
Do you really need success to rest peacefully? Do you need stable work to spend time with loved ones? Why did I think other conditions were necessary to learn what I want to learn, wear pretty clothes, or view myself kindly today?
Of course, some things genuinely require money and time.
But many things weren't postponed for realistic reasons. They were postponed because I felt 'I'm not at the stage to enjoy that yet.'
So it helps to write down sentences you frequently use:
“When ○○ happens, I'll \\_______.”
And ask yourself: Does the former really need to happen for the latter to occur?
Can you only exercise after switching jobs? Can you only spend quality time with family after earning lots of money? Can you only love yourself after succeeding?
When separated like this, many things turn out to be unrelated.
Living the life you want in your 20s is closer to meaning that you can take one of the things you kept handing over to your future self.
I wish I had known this earlier:
That you can desperately want something while liking today, and want to grow more while being satisfied with who you are now.
Wanting a better future and being happy now aren't mutually exclusive choices.
3. Instead of trying to have everything, choose what you absolutely don't want to lose
Perhaps the reason your 20s are hard isn't because there are few options, but because there are too many.
There are many things you want to do well and have. You want to earn money doing what you love, build a great career, meet good people, stay healthy, travel, and have enough personal time.
Individually, none of these desires are strange.
But if you start calling all of them together 'the life I want,' problems arise. Because the life you want becomes less like a life you can actually live, and more like a virtual life where every area is optimal.
It's easy to compare in your 20s.
Seeing someone, you want their job. Seeing another, you want their relationship. Seeing another, you envy their house and leisure.
The trap here is that this idealized life combines the best-looking parts of dozens of people, not one person's life.
Your real self is one person, but in your head, you're competing against someone who combined the best of ten people.
In the chapter "Step by Step Rather Than Infinite Possibilities," the author makes an unexpected point:
"If captured by infinite possibilities, people become unable to satisfy themselves with anything."
At first, this felt frustrating. Isn't keeping possibilities open good for someone in their 20s?
But reading further, the meaning of 'limiting possibilities' appears differently.
If you had different dreams, parents, investments, or partners, today could have been completely different. But if you keep standing all those possibilities next to your current life, your present life is always compared to 'the life that could have been better.'
The book says that to love your life, you must limit possibilities at some point.
I interpreted this not as telling you to dream small, but as advising you not to endlessly increase the conditions required to acknowledge your life as good.
You can imagine other lives. If I had chosen a different major, started earlier, gone to a different company, or met different people.
No matter what choice you make, the road not taken will remain. But you cannot live all those lives simultaneously.
Eventually, you must choose which of the countless possibilities to keep in your life.
Through various choices, I gradually learned my criteria.
Previously, I often thought, 'Is this a choice that looks good to others?' Was it a reputable company? A stable path? Did it sound plausible when explained to others?
But making choices that way sometimes left me feeling like I was on a good path, yet it didn't feel like my life.
So now I ask a different question:
Even after making this choice, can I live while preserving what I consider important?
With this criterion, although I still want many things, I can distinguish between what I must have and what is okay to lack.
Because while I can't have all possibilities, I know what I would miss most if lost.
So when thinking about 'the life I want,' instead of listing all desired conditions, try asking this first:
“To feel like I’m living authentically and well, what is one thing I absolutely don’t want to lose?”
It might be doing meaningful work, or spending sufficient time with loved ones.
Some people need solitary immersion time, others need economic independence, and others need space to care for body and mind.
The key isn't choosing what others envy.
Find the thing whose absence would make you feel 'this isn't the life I wanted,' no matter how much else you have.
The book suggests experimenting with possibilities that make life better step by step, rather than diving into the sea of infinite possibilities.
This quote is good because it doesn't mean giving up on possibilities.
It means setting your priorities and moving your life in a better direction within those bounds.
Perhaps creating the life you want in your 20s isn't about making all possibilities reality.
It seems closer to the process of learning what kind of person you are by seeing what you need to live authentically.
4. Don't try to pick the right answer all at once; just try it and adjust
I attended university for six years. I majored in one subject and studied a double major. Yet, facing graduation, I decided to start studying a completely different field from scratch.
I was terrified at the time. People said it was too late, and questioned why I'd restart in such a competitive field.
Most of all, I feared admitting that all my previous choices were wrong. I worried that if I failed on this new path, I'd have to return to the place I didn't want.
But looking back, the most important thing about that choice wasn't whether it was the 'right' path.
It was that for the first time, I prioritized what I wanted over standards others deemed good.
That experience changed subsequent choices. Through changing directions multiple times, I learned:
I didn't know exactly who I was from the start. I didn't discover the 'real me' first and then pick the perfect path.
It was the opposite.
By choosing directly, living that life, going further if it fit, and changing direction if it didn't, I learned what I liked and what lives I couldn't sustain.
Two points from "Don't Obsess Over Misfortune" connect well here.
First, in "Today's Problems Are Today's Problems," the author says:
"People easily turn 'today's' problems into 'whole life' problems."
In your 20s, when one choice goes wrong, you might accept it as a verdict on your entire life.
If job hunting fails, you think 'my career is wrong.' If you change direction, you think 'have I been living wrong all along?'
I felt similarly when choosing a new path.
A failed choice felt not just like 'this method didn't suit me,' but like 'my decision itself was wrong, and I walked a mistaken path.'
But now I realize that one bad choice didn't ruin my whole life.
Rather, trying it helped me learn a new aspect of myself I hadn't known before.
Second, in "Step by Step Rather Than Infinite Possibilities," the author suggests "experimenting with possibilities that make life better step by step" instead of diving into infinite possibilities.
I liked the word 'experiment.'
Experiments don't assume you know the right answer from the start.
In your 20s, one choice can feel huge. Choosing this company seems to determine your career. Giving up this path feels irreversible. One mistake feels like losing years.
But living through it, most choices weren't unchangeable answer sheets.
You could change if it didn't work, and taking a different path didn't erase previous time.
Actually, making those choices allowed me to quickly identify what didn't fit me next time.
So now, I don't think I need to agonize over creating a perfect answer in my head. Instead, I start by changing small things.
Spend one hour after work on something you really wanted to try. Study a curious field for 10 minutes a day. Test if you thrive in social environments or need solitude by placing yourself in various settings.
By living through these, the life I want becomes increasingly concrete.
Ultimately, the life you want isn't a right answer discovered all at once, but a process of erasing what doesn't fit and keeping what does as you live.
I used to think living your 20s well meant arriving at your desired destination faster than others.
Finding the perfect job quickly, identifying wants fast, and securing your spot without trial and error. I believed this prevented future regret.
But through making choices, getting what I wanted, realizing it wasn't what I truly wanted, and changing direction, my perspective shifted.
In your 20s, discovering the right answer to the life you want quickly is less important than
learning what you like, what you value, and what kind of day makes you feel most authentic.
And that isn't known by staring at the future. It's known by living today.
"Don't Obsess Over Misfortune" mentions that happy people have learned ways not to obsess over misfortune in their own styles.
Initially, I read this simply as 'be positive.'
But after finishing the book, it felt different.
Living a good life isn't reaching a state with zero misfortunes,
but having the strength not to let current lacks define your entire life as lacking.
Dreams are similar.
Try one thing you wanted to do after achieving a dream sooner. Pull happiness forward from postponement. Choose what you don't want to lose, not what others want. Make small choices accepting the risk of being wrong.
As these times accumulate, you eventually realize:
The life you want doesn't start fully formed one day. It has already been slowly shaped into what you want in the moments you chose today in the way you wanted.
