This describes my entire 20s and some of my early 30s. I avoided and possibly dissociated (I'm just starting to understand what that means) any major move in any direction because I was paralyzed with lack of knowledge and life skills. I was never taught any "adult" skills, much less emotional regulation, and I had no idea how all the people around me seemed to know things they wanted to achieve and what steps to take towards those things. I had no goals -- I didn't understand HOW to have goals. I was too dissociated (??) to even understand what kind of goals I'd like to have, besides getting through the day without a major emotional breakdown. I watched a lot of TV, worked a series of dead-end waitressing jobs, had mostly superficial friendships (aka drinking buddies -- no shortage of those in the restaurant industry, but you're going to have no luck if you want to talk about anything besides sports or the lowest common denominator in pop culture), didn't move forward with my education after high school, chose terrible romantic partners, and wasn't able to sustain most romantic relationships for more than a little while.
In my late 20s, I decided to finish my degree, which was a good move and gave me something to focus on, even though I had only a hazy idea of what I would use it for. I'd always been an avid reader and had been told I was a good writer, so I majored in English Literature -- again, not due to any burning sense of personal goals in that area but mostly due to the recognition that "Hey, here's something I can probably accomplish without too much struggle. I should probably just do it." I graduated at 29 and, big surprise, kept waitressing, because I had no real goals for my degree.
A couple years later I started advertising proofreading and editing services on craigslist, grossly undercharging for them, again because I thought "Hey, here's something I'm pretty sure I can achieve." I felt zero burning passion for it, but along with the blogging I was doing (mediocre-ly) for a nonprofit organization in town, it did give me enough "professional BS" so to speak to make a resume -- "narrow the field of view," as
@Friday put it so well up above. I was eventually able to make the leap out of bartending into a (low-paying) professional job by leaning heavily on some connections I had in the company (regulars at my bar).
THEN I started taking antidepressants and can I just tell you -- comparatively, it's been SUCH smoother sailing. I felt for the first time like I knew what to do. I utilized the "narrow field of view" strategy to bump myself up into a better job at a better company, then into a better role there, then into a better role at another company, and somewhere along the way I learned enough to actually know what I'm doing and no longer need to "BS."
I have two advantages that I'm not sure if you have,
@Ms Spock -- one of which is that I'm in a profession (writing) that lends itself very well to glossing over the gaps in my experience -- and which I could do at home in my spare time until I'd built up some experience. The other is that I moved to a big city in my early 30s, and there are so many more professional and volunteering opportunities here, so much more to participate in, so many therapists and programs to help people with mental illnesses.
I have a few good friends but still mostly superficial friendships -- I'm not comfortable opening up to people -- I'm married but it's rocky as we both have a history of trauma and depression, and I do finally like where my career is going. I have real goals, things I know that I actually, authentically want for the first time in my life.
But like you I feel like I'm constantly grieving for the years I spent avoiding and dissociating and underestimating myself. I feel almost psychotically driven to make up for them, which causes me plenty of other problems! It's so hard to accept I'll never get them back, that the place I'm at now is where so many people are when they're 20, or maybe even younger. It feels unfair. It's hard not to be ashamed and blame myself. I'm going to keep moving forward, because I finally understand what it means, but the grief feels like it can't possibly ever go away.
