THE SPOT

Category: Thoughtful Essays

  • The Art of Becoming – Feeling Behind in Your 20s

    The Art of Becoming – Feeling Behind in Your 20s

    If you are in your 20s and feel like everyone else got a manual you never received, this post is for you. The art of becoming is messy, slow, and absolutely nobody’s idea of fun. And yet here we are.

    You are not the only one feeling behind. Someone should create a university degree for becoming, because this shit is nasty (pardon my French).

    25, So All Grown Up?

    As most of you know, the prefrontal cortex is not fully developed until you hit the age of 25. So all decision-making and long-term planning, all of the quintessential aspects that make adulting sooo difficult, are not fully there yet. In summary, you are literally not fully there.

    The issue that arises with me is that I assumed and hoped that once I hit 25, it would all be over. Well, lucky me, it wasn’t. Psychologist Meg Jay writes in her book The Defining Decade that your 20s are the most important decade of your life, however many do not take it seriously. Including all the grown ups around you. NIH researcher Jay Giedd argues that during your 20s you are more inclined to chase and compare.

    Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Why Am I Not The Fairest of Them All?

    There it is. Comparison. A thought process that has me in a chokehold, because why be happy and content if I could just have a mental spiral and lose my shit at 3am about something that I may or may not have done 7 years ago.

    Seriously, I lay awake thinking about the time I wished my server good appetite. I am, like many 20-somethings, my own worst critic. Even though research shows that feeling lost is technically and developmentally very much normal.

    But why oh why, do I open Instagram and think… huh? I wish I could be in Tanzania like that one friend from 10 years ago. I know that she has worked hard for her degree and deserves to treat herself. And yet I feel completely lonely. In a room full of people, whether family, friends or strangers, I feel lonely. Disconnected.

    A 2023 loneliness study found that people between the ages of 18 and 34 are the loneliest generation globally. More lonely than even the elderly.

    If only I could?

    Whenever I feel this jealousy, this pressure, the green monster emerging from the shadows, I also pity my inner child. Because it is also her that is hurting. Every penny, every time she had to hold herself back and be reasonable, be consistent, so her family had food on their table, electricity or clothing. She chipped away something off of her personality, off of her life, to make a sacrifice. Research suggests that children of immigrants inherit survival patterns including over-achieving, people-pleasing and hypervigilance. Concepts that should be unlearned during adulthood.

    As a first-generation individual, I have talked about the Black Tax in the linked essay. What I did not quite name was the identity tax that accompanies it. It takes a toll navigating two different cultures. What Germans would deem normal children’s behaviour, my African family clutched their pearls about. Where I had to take responsibility, my German counterparts were allowed to live and feel. When my German friends thought about what club to go to, I was worrying about how we were going to make rent. Don’t get me wrong, I also value the African and Togolese culture. Check out the blog post here to hear what I had to say.

    The Journey to Joy

    In the end, I don’t have it figured out. Nobody does at 25, at 28, or honestly at any age. But I am learning that becoming is not a destination you arrive at. It is the journey itself. And if you are somewhere in the middle of your own becoming, adjusting your crown in the dark, I see you. Keep going.

    If this resonated, you might also enjoy 3 Epiphany Moments I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner.

  • Epiphany Moments: 3 Life Lessons I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner

    Epiphany Moments: 3 Life Lessons I Wish Someone Had Told Me Sooner

    If you’re in your 20s trying to figure life out, you’re not alone. These are the life lessons for your 20s that nobody warns you about — the ones that only hit you on a cellular level after you’ve already learned them the hard way. Here are three epiphany moments that genuinely changed how I move through life.

    1. Stop Waiting for Others — Start Living for Yourself


    When I moved out of my parents’ house I was so excited. Out on my own. Out in the streets. I wanted to finally experience life without parental supervision. But I held myself back. I waited for someone to join me. So many nights I spent looking for an acquaintance or a friend to tell me whether they’d be able to come to that bar, the art gallery, the dance class, the swimming pool.
    People naturally don’t owe you their time. Never. But you should never hold yourself back because someone said no. Go to that concert. Go clubbing. Go on that trip. Carpe Diem.
    I started college in 2018. 2019 was the only year I really got — and only toward the end of it did I stop waiting and start living. And you bet your nice little behind, it was all disrupted by the Covid-19 pandemic. So don’t be a fool. Go do it.


    2. Keep Your Plans to Yourself (The Evil Eye Is Real)


    I used to share a lot about my life. The older I get, the more I believe in the evil eye. Now I only share when plans are definitive and the goal has been secured. If I cross the finish line — great. If I don’t, at least nobody will ask about it.
    I stopped oversharing specifically after my job search, which all but destroyed what little confidence I had to begin with. If you didn’t get the job, didn’t finish the project, just couldn’t get there for whatever reason — cry about it, cry some more, and then move on. Though I’ll admit, I haven’t fully moved on from a job I applied to back in December.


    3. Loneliness Is a Life Lesson Too — Learn to Sit With Yourself


    “You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person” — Oscar Wilde.

    And I think it’s true.
    I feel lonely. I felt lonely when I was single and I feel lonely right now, even though I have a partner. I believe it’s integral to who we are at our core to get to know ourselves. Because if you don’t know you, how will you ever know what you want — or don’t want?
    Solitude and loneliness — there’s a fine line between them. But I think at some point in your life you’ll have to experience both to grow.

  • The Black Tax in Europe: One Black Woman’s Story of Family, Money & Boundaries

    The Black Tax in Europe: One Black Woman’s Story of Family, Money & Boundaries

    The featured image was created by AI.

    Explaining the Patterns

    In African cultures there is a clear and structured hierarchy. You have elders and you have the youngins — people like me. You have women and you have men, and if you think Germany can be misogynistic, try some African countries. This is a fact, not an insult.

    Men are the head of the household, and women’s will or ideas have to adjust to whatever the men in their lives plan — or plan not to do.

    This rule can only be overwritten by being an elder. Elders, male or female, are always right. No matter the topic, no matter the day, no matter the year. You respect your elders because they carry wisdom, because they have more experience with this thing called life.

    However, when it comes to boundaries, their infinite well of wisdom dries out quicker than the Sahara.

    My Story

    Ever since my siblings and I were young, we had to step up. As I’ve mentioned before, my father got sick early in our lives, so my sister and I — both barely teenagers — had to learn how to transfer money and pay the electricity, rent, and telephone bills on time. We marched through the coldest winters the Swabian Black Forest had to offer to get groceries. We snuggled together under thick covers when the saved money ran out, and spread a can of tuna among all five of us. Those situations — and others far more traumatic — were familiar.

    So when I finally moved out at 19 or 20, I tried to enjoy the limitless freedom. That meant monetary freedom too — no more working weekends and paying for groceries. Or so I thought.

    During my university years I was still paying bills. My siblings helped too, don’t get me wrong, but it felt deeply strange. Having so much responsibility while envying friends who had never once picked up the phone to hear that another bill had arrived in the mailbox. On one hand, it made me grow up faster — I knew how to navigate certain things far quicker than my fellow Gen Z peers. But the older I get, the more I acknowledge the pitfalls. A Nigerian friend of mine told me she simply doesn’t bother anymore. Sidenote: she is a queen for having boundaries and sticking to them. I genuinely admire her.

    Back to the story.

    When I wanted to go on a semester abroad — or start college at all — I had to rely on government subsidizing. In the end I never went, thanks to Covid, but I still had to think about every penny. Everything had to be calculated: whether I could keep working until I embarked on the journey. Worries that later turned out to be misplaced.

    The Job Market and I — Eternal Foes?

    After leaving school, I thought things would be different. I was earning more, right? But I had the luck of graduating into one of the worst job markets since the financial crisis of 2008. Hundreds of applications, dozens of ghost postings, and several moments of desperation, preparation, and rejection emails later — I had a job. My previous employer offered me another position, working in a team I had shadowed just a year earlier. With my luck, it was the worst shadowing I had ever done. The person on the other side was what you would nowadays call a classic Karen — domineering, short-fused — and the cherry on top was the jump from Marketing to Software and Scrum work. I hated every second of it.

    But here’s the thing. I hadn’t had a free moment since 2019. I was either studying, working, or both. I would have loved a gap year — to travel to New Zealand like so many of my fellow students and friends were doing. But no. Mom’s rent. The phone bill. Last year it was the deposit for the new apartment, the furniture, the lamps. Everything. And no matter how much I saved, there was always something else. No matter how careful I was with money. The worst part is that in African households, which tend to be collectivist, there is a certain sense of entitlement. During my studies I shielded myself from certain requests by saying I was still a student — very much the truth. But now that I’m a full-time employee, there is this belief that I can miraculously afford anyone and everyone.

    Mind you, I pay €300 alone just for my parents’ bills — sometimes more. Where exactly is that supposed to come from, between my rent, food, and gas at over €2 per liter1 (thank you, 47th President of the United States)? And on top of all that, I also want to live. I want to have dinner with friends, go on trips, go to concerts, restart Pole Dance, go to Hip-Hop classes, try Pilates. Do so much more. But when I do — or even when I try — I hear that I should be saving more. From the very people who rely on me to help them.

    I don’t want to resent my parents. Some of what happened was out of their control just as much as it was out of mine. But I also don’t want to be 50, 60, or 70 and look back and think — well, what the hell did I do with my life?

    Why the resentment lately? There are so many fights and disagreements, so I’m not only being put through the wringer financially, but also emotionally drained. As someone who wants to be in control of her own life, I often feel like I’m being kept in a golden cage. On one side, the love and compassion I have for my family. On the other, the yearning to be stricter with boundaries and finally say — I’m done.

    1. Conversion: 9$ per Gallon ↩︎
  • Why Bloggers Quit: Depression, Comparison & the Pressure to Be Positive

    Why Bloggers Quit: Depression, Comparison & the Pressure to Be Positive

    Blogging… When You Have Nothing to Give

    Hello.

    Those two of you who keep reading my posts might have noticed that I haven’t been writing as frequently as I did back in February or January. The truth is, I feel uninspired. How can — or should — you write something inspiring or vulnerable when you feel blue or gray?

    I always like to remember the phrase from the great Cameron Tucker: “I don’t think I would make a very inspiring disabled person.” Don’t get me wrong — I guess that since I’ve been struggling with depression, I technically have some sort of alternative ability. But honestly, sometimes it’s a struggle. I wanted this to be a place of joy. But sometimes it feels cumbersome to think about ideas, especially when your plans don’t pan out.

    It’s also frustrating when some of your ideas or plans don’t pan out. I can’t spare the funds for simple things I would like to do. Honestly, I want to go to Annecy. I would also love to see Genova. It’s been a long time coming — I planned a trip there in 2023, but lucky me managed to sprain my ankle, almost completely tearing two ligaments in my left foot, and was therefore more or less housebound. I could have gone, but Italy — like the rest of Europe — has a walking culture, which I love. You shouldn’t have to drive everywhere you go. That’s not ideal when your ankle is literally hanging on by a thread.

    The worst of my pity party is probably being on social media. I see women and men younger than me achieving dreams that I don’t dare to think of. It kind of hurts. It’s not that I don’t want to acknowledge their hard work — they had to do something to get where they are.

    But sometimes I wonder… why not me? I guess it’s simply entitlement. Simply feeling that maybe I should get a piece of the metaphorical success cake.

    Oh well.