My 20s were supposed to be a wild ride—late nights out, big career wins, falling in love, figuring out who I am. And to some extent, they were. But there was another side to this decade that no one really warned me about. The side filled with anxiety, doubt, exhaustion, and just… a lot of naps. Somewhere between overthinking every little decision and oversleeping to escape my own thoughts, I realized mental health in your 20s is a whole journey on its own.
The Pressure to “Have It All Together”
Let’s start with the big one—the pressure. In your 20s, everyone expects you to suddenly know what you’re doing with your life. You graduate (maybe), start working (hopefully), and people expect you to just get it. Like, “What’s your five-year plan?” I barely know what I want to eat for dinner.
This pressure doesn’t just come from outside—it’s internal too. We compare ourselves constantly. Social media makes it worse. You see people traveling the world, getting married, launching businesses, and you’re just lying in bed, trying to remember if you brushed your teeth.
That pressure builds. And for me, it often showed up in the form of overthinking.
Overthinking: The Uninvited Roommate
Overthinking has been like an annoying roommate in my brain. Always there. Always loud.
I’d lie awake in bed going over that one text I sent, wondering if I sounded weird. Or I’d replay a conversation from days ago, analyzing every word. Did they think I was rude? Did I talk too much? Did I not talk enough?
Job decisions, friendships, money, family—all of it. I’d spiral into a thousand “what ifs” and imaginary scenarios. Sometimes it would keep me up till 3 a.m., eyes wide open, heart racing, mind refusing to just. shut. up.
I knew it wasn’t healthy, but it felt uncontrollable. I wasn’t choosing to overthink. It just happened. And when I was tired of my brain running like a hamster wheel, I would swing to the other side of the spectrum—oversleeping.
Oversleeping: The Great Escape
Oversleeping became my way of checking out. When everything felt too much, I’d just go to bed. I wasn’t even that tired. I just didn’t want to deal.
Sleep was an escape from reality. No decisions, no responsibilities, no overthinking. Just peace. But the thing is, sleeping your problems away only works until you wake up. And then the cycle starts again.
I felt guilty for sleeping too much. Lazy. Unmotivated. But looking back, I realize it wasn’t laziness—it was burnout. Emotional exhaustion. I was overwhelmed, not just with life but with the expectations I had placed on myself.
The “I’m Fine” Lie
Let’s talk about how easy it is to lie about your mental health.
“I’m fine” became my go-to response. Even when I was drowning in anxiety. Even when I felt numb for days. Even when I hadn’t showered or left my room. I didn’t want to burden anyone. I didn’t want to sound dramatic. Everyone else seemed to be figuring it out—why was I struggling?
The truth is, most people were struggling too. But we were all walking around pretending we were fine. And that just made things lonelier.
When I finally started opening up to friends—really opening up—I realized I wasn’t alone. So many of us were navigating the same storm. We were just doing it quietly, behind closed doors.
Mental Health Isn’t Linear
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that mental health isn’t a straight path. It’s not like you decide to “get better” and suddenly everything’s fine. It’s messy. Some weeks you feel on top of the world. Other weeks, brushing your teeth feels like a big win.
There’s no deadline. No “you should be over this by now.” Healing is not a race. And it doesn’t look the same for everyone.
Some days I journal. Some days I talk to a friend. Some days I just cry and watch reruns of comfort shows. It’s not always about “fixing” yourself—it’s about being gentle with yourself.
Therapy Helped (Once I Stopped Avoiding It)
For the longest time, I resisted therapy. I told myself I could handle it. That things “weren’t that bad.” That I wasn’t the type of person who needed therapy. But eventually, I got tired of carrying everything on my own.
Therapy didn’t fix me (because I wasn’t broken), but it helped me understand myself. It gave me tools to deal with the spirals. It helped me name my emotions, instead of stuffing them down. It made me feel less alone.
Going to therapy doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re brave enough to face your mind and work through it. And honestly, that takes strength.
Relationships and Mental Health
Romantic relationships in your 20s can either help you grow—or completely wreck your peace. I’ve experienced both.
When your mental health is fragile, who you let into your space matters a lot. I’ve been in situations where I didn’t feel emotionally safe, where I constantly questioned myself, and it took a toll on my already shaky mental state.
It’s easy to lose yourself in love when you’re not grounded. That’s why learning how to love yourself—really love yourself—is so important. Not in the Pinterest-quote way, but in the real “I’m going to show up for myself even when I feel like shit” way.
Learning to Say “No”
One thing that changed my mental health for the better? Learning to say no.
No to overcommitting.
No to draining friendships.
No to things that didn’t align with me.
In my early 20s, I was such a people-pleaser. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. But that meant I was constantly putting myself last. And that kind of self-abandonment builds up. You start to feel resentful, tired, empty.
Saying no isn’t rude. It’s an act of self-respect.
Small Things That Made a Big Difference
No one thing saved me. There was no “aha” moment that fixed everything. But a bunch of small things slowly started to help:
- Morning sunlight — getting out of bed and standing in the sun for a few minutes
- Drinking water — so basic, but when I’m dehydrated, everything feels worse
- Movement — not intense workouts, just stretching or walking
- Unfollowing people who made me feel bad — peace over aesthetics
- Journaling without judgment — writing down thoughts like I’m talking to a friend
- Creating a “bare minimum” checklist — eat something, shower, go outside
These tiny things, done consistently, helped me climb out of the hole I didn’t even realize I was in.
The Guilt of “Not Doing Enough”
There were so many days I felt behind. Behind in my career, in my goals, in life. I’d look around and see people doing so much. And here I was, celebrating the fact that I finally did laundry.
But here’s what I’ve learned: survival is also an accomplishment. If you’re struggling and you still show up, even in small ways, that counts. You’re not lazy. You’re surviving. And that’s something to be proud of.
It’s Okay to Ask for Help
This one took me a long time to believe. I thought asking for help made me weak. That it meant I was failing. But it’s the opposite.
We’re not meant to do life alone. We need support, connection, understanding. Whether it’s a therapist, a friend, a family member, or an online community—reaching out can be life-changing.
You don’t have to carry the weight all by yourself.
Being Kinder to Myself
The biggest shift came when I stopped treating my mental health like a flaw. When I stopped judging myself for not being okay. When I started offering myself the same compassion I’d give to a friend.
Your 20s are hard. You’re growing, learning, failing, trying. It’s messy and beautiful and exhausting. Give yourself grace. You’re not supposed to have all the answers.
Final Thoughts: You’re Not Alone
If you’re in your 20s and feel like you’re constantly swinging between overthinking and oversleeping, please know this: you’re not alone. So many of us are quietly fighting the same battles.
Mental health isn’t just about the “bad days.” It’s about everything in between. The numbness. The guilt. The small wins. The days you fake a smile. The moments you let yourself cry.
It’s okay to not be okay. But it’s also okay to want better. And to take small steps toward that better. One slow, kind, messy step at a time.
Ayerhs Magazine 