By the time I turned 28, I was struck by the overwhelming question: “What’s my purpose in life?” I wasn’t even 30, yet I found myself consumed by thoughts of where I should be and who I should become, as if there were some unwritten rule dictating it all. The anxiety that came with being 28 was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. That’s when I learned about the phenomenon of the so-called “28-year-old depression.” Apparently, it’s something many people go through, but few ever talk about.
It shocked me how society seems to pressure us into a collective mindset, asking us to figure everything out quickly and decisively—as if we’re all chasing some imaginary train that departs every other second. But why? It’s time we normalize the idea that everyone moves at their own pace. Turning 30 is just another number, nothing more. Whether you start a company in your 20s, get your driver’s license at 50, or graduate college in your 40s, it doesn’t matter. These are just numbers; they carry no hidden meaning.
