Every so often, I feel it creeping in… that quiet itch for change. The urge to dismantle the life I’ve built and begin again somewhere else, under softer light, with slightly different dreams. I call it freedom, though I’m starting to wonder if it’s just restlessness dressed up as reinvention. The truth is, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I just know that staying in one place too long makes me feel like I’m missing out on some version of myself and a life that could be. I keep asking myself: am I scared of stability, or am I scared of being an adult

What scares me isn’t adulthood itself – I like independence, I like working, I like being completely responsible for myself and I like having choices – it’s feeling trapped in a life that prioritises stability over the freedom to explore. The way I see it (though this may be a twisted perception, coming from a 20-something girl who is still figuring things out) adulthood represents the same. While adulthood is supposed to be about independence, in my mind it comes packaged with rules I don’t want to follow – long leases, job loyalty, delayed travel – I can’t help but feel uneasy knowing there’s still so much to see, do, and become before life settles into predictability.

Of course I want to eventually own my home, have a family, and I know that for the most part, this does require stability – and when the time comes to that, I know that I will be ready. But here’s where I get concerned… it feels like there’s only one way to get there, and it’s this version of adulthood that does scare me. Think about it, unless you somehow rig the “system” and manage to break through and own a successful business, become famous, or magically come into a lot of money, most of our lives will follow a predictable path. Jobs stacked one after the other, each requiring loyalty: two years at the first job, five years at the second job, ten years at the third, and before you know it retirement is right around the corner. You earn, you save, you delay the things you want now – travel, exploration, experiences – all in the service of goals set decades ahead. I think about this as my future and there is only one thing I have to say… I do not want that.

For me, the idea of life unfolding unpredictably, guided by curiosity rather than expectation, feels far more alive. I’ve carried this restlessness for as long as I can remember. Every year I convince myself it’s time to settle: focus on work, save for a house, build a steady life, and yet, without warning, the urge to move, explore, and change returns.

I moved out of home at 17, chasing the plan of spending the next three years in a new city, working casually and earning my degree. As nice as that would’ve been, it turns out that plan was never in the cards for me. After one single semester of studying, I realised the degree was not for me and I dropped out. Luckily, after many conversations with my friends and family, I came to the realisation that studying was very important to me and uni life was something I wanted to experience (despite being in lockdown for majority of my first year). I ended up re-enrolling in a new degree the following semester. Within less than a year, I had packed up my bags once again, this time for a four-month exchange program in America. After the semester ended, I spent a month travelling across the United Kingdom, before returning back to Australia to move back in with my parents after having spent every last cent of my savings. I transferred my credits and picked up where I left off at a different university. But I didn’t stop there. Though it wasn’t my plan to stay in my hometown for very long, I was under the impression that I would finish my degree before I moved away again.

With the excitement of starting my career as a journalist and working at a magazine, I was always on the lookout for jobs, envisioning the life that awaited me. While still studying, I half-jokingly applied for what I thought was my dream job, and, to my amazement, somehow, I got it. I finished up my internship at the magazine I was writing for at the time, packed my bags (yet again), and moved to a new city. I lived on my own, working my first ‘big girl’ job at the magazine for about a year and a half, until the need for something else, mixed with rising rent, forced me to move again; this time to a city I knew, where I could live with friends and have some stability while figuring things out. I picked up some hospitality work, started a postgrad degree in psychology, and eventually stepped into a role at a PR and marketing firm, eager to explore a new career path. And yet, as always, the itch has returned, reminding me that I’m still figuring out what comes next, where I want to go, and who I’m becoming along the way.

As this familiar feeling resurfaces, I’ve started to wonder whether this constant need to move and change is rooted in a fear I’ve yet to fully face and forced me to question… am I scared of stability? I do want these milestones – a home, a family – and I would hate to think those things are in the cards for me all because of my deep rooted desire for exploration and movement. But maybe, just maybe, I can have both? Now, perhaps my delusion plays a role in all of this, but part of me still believes my magazine will take off, or that I’ll magically find the focus to finally sit down write a book.  And maybe that’s fine. I am a 20-something girl and I am allowed to have dreams. I am not scared of stability, in fact, I want that house and that family down the line, but I am not scared of adulthood either, I just need to break my preconceived idea of what adulthood is.

What I know, is that these years are mine to explore, to chase experiences, and to figure out who I am along the way. Not everyone will agree, but I’ve come to see my restlessness not as a flaw or a reflection of some deep rooted fear, but as the truest part of who I am. For now, I’ll embrace this restlessness, knowing it’s guiding me toward the life I’m meant to build – on my own terms, in my own time.