When I Overthink My Age and Realize Everything’s Actually Ok

Sometimes, out of nowhere, my brain does this funny thing.

I’ll be lying on the couch, minding my own business, or brushing my teeth before bed, and suddenly I’ll think:

“Wait. I was born in 2003. How old does that make me now?”

It’s such a random, almost silly habit—but one I’ve done more times than I can count. So I grab my phone, open up the browser, and search:

“2003 bao nhiêu tuổi.”

Just to make sure. Just to ground myself again.

And every time I do it, I realize something new. Not just my age, but something deeper, something gentler:

I still have so much time.

The Panic That Sneaks Up Sometimes

I don’t know when it started, this low hum of pressure to have everything figured out. Maybe it’s social media. Maybe it’s watching others move quickly, confidently, like they’ve already unlocked the secrets of adulthood while I’m still fumbling with the keys.

Sometimes, I catch myself comparing.

Am I behind? Am I doing enough? Should I be working harder? Living louder? Loving deeper?

And then it spirals. I think too much, too fast. Suddenly, I’m mapping out the rest of my life in my head like it’s a race I’ve already fallen behind in.

But then—thankfully—I remember to pause.

I type “2003 bao nhiêu tuổi.”

And I breathe.

I’m Still So Young — and That’s a Gift

Turns out, I’m not behind.

I’m just twenty-something. Barely entering the stage of my life where things start to settle into shape. And that’s something to be grateful for, not anxious about.

There’s still room to make mistakes, to try things just because, to start over if I want to. There’s space to grow slowly, intentionally, without rushing to meet some invisible deadline.

And when I really stop to think about it, I’m actually doing okay.

Finding Joy, Even When I’m Alone

One of the things I’ve grown proud of is my ability to be happy on my own.

I don’t always need company to enjoy myself. I’ve learned how to be my own safe space—to romanticize quiet mornings, long solo walks, or a cup of tea while listening to music that makes me feel understood.

That kind of self-sufficiency didn’t come overnight. It came from moments of loneliness, sure—but also from choosing to like my own company. To sit with my thoughts, no matter how chaotic, and eventually make peace with them.

It’s such a small, powerful thing: to know that even if no one is around, I can still feel content.

And When I’m Not Alone, I’m So Loved

But of course, I’m not alone.

That’s the beautiful part.

Even when I forget it for a moment, I’m surrounded by friends who care deeply, who show up for me without me needing to ask. People who support me in ways both big and small—from sending a voice note when I feel low to showing up with food when I didn’t even know I was hungry.

To be loved without conditions is one of the most healing things I’ve ever known. And it makes me feel like no matter what storm I face, I’ll never have to go through it completely alone.

So truly—what do I have to worry about?

The Answer: Nothing. Really, Nothing.

Sometimes I say it out loud to remind myself:

“Chẳng coá gì phải lo. Chẳng, chẳng coá gì phải looo.”

It’s like a little mantra. A way of soothing my overthinking mind. A reminder that life doesn’t need to be rushed or figured out all at once.

That it’s okay to not have answers yet.

That it’s okay to feel lost sometimes.

That it’s more than okay to laugh, to rest, to just be.

Because at the end of the day, I’m okay. More than okay.

I’m loved. I’m growing. I’m learning.

And I’m exactly where I need to be.

A Little Note to Anyone Who Feels the Same

If you’re reading this and you’ve also typed “2003 bao nhiêu tuổi” (or “1998,” or “2000,” or any other number), just to feel less lost—hi. I see you.

You’re not behind. You’re not late.

You’re just early in your story.

Don’t let the noise convince you that you should be someone else by now.

You’re becoming someone wonderful.

Slowly, steadily, in your own way.

And that is more than enough.