Dreams burn bright, mistakes feel heavy, and the search for identity and stability never really pauses. For women, the weight can feel even greater. Proving yourself, balancing independence with expectations, and carrying ambition while still figuring out who you are. That is the burden of being in your 20s, described as the decade of decisions, a time when every choice feels like it could shape the rest of your life.
2025 made me older, let’s be real, who doesn’t? On paper, I’m 22, born May 23rd. Yet the real day I came into the world remains a mystery, even to my parents. Was it famine? Was it a hot or cold? Were there moments of joy or sorrow? No one truly knows. What remains is the memory of my clan fighting, though the reason was never clear. Perhaps it was land, perhaps pride, or perhaps nothing more than the endless grass every Somali clan seems to claim.
Advice is everywhere. Do this. Do that. Check the list. I know how it only adds another layer of stress, and I’m not trying to set that measure for you either; instead, I want to share my own reflection on 2025, a year that became my turning point, and maybe it can spark something for you too.
Before 2025, I was unemployed, waiting for a door to open. I held onto the hope of finding a full‑time job, and eventually that hope became reality. I stepped into a new chapter as a UN Volunteer, entering a space where I began to grow not only professionally but personally. I worked alongside people who were kind, guiding, and supportive in their own ways. Working for my community meant everything to me, as I always been a people-person. Each day carried meaning, and every task felt like a step toward becoming more than I was before.
Days flowed easily, worry-free, until the world shifted without warning. July 31st became the day of change, my contract ended, leaving me unemployed once more. Yet that moment as my supervisor walked over to my desk, pulled up a chair, and spoke words that became a lifeline:“Suad, your contract is ending, and soon they may send you the announcement. But don’t let that disappoint you or lower your motivation.” That was more than advice; it was belief. Endings aren’t failures. Rejections don’t mean unworthy. Passion never dies.
The year wasn’t easy, and life rarely is. Each of us faced different stages, challenges, and turning points along the way. Yet what truly makes us who we are is not the hardships themselves, but how we choose to stand and keep trying. I tried some tips to stay steady, small habits, bits of advice, and lessons that helped me hold on.
- Networking became one of the greatest gifts of this year. I built bridges with people from near and far, expanding my world and opening doors for the future. I discovered that connection is not only about opportunity, but about growth. Every person carries a lesson, a perspective, a story worth hearing. Yet I also learned the importance of being selective, not everyone deserves a seat at your table.
- Resilience became my choice over despair, patience my answer to panic. In the stillness after endings, I found seeds of beginnings. The year unfolded with growth and learning. I gave and gained, read and wrote, and grew emotionally, mentally, and professionally. I explored new places, enrolled in courses, attended workshops, and absorbed knowledge wherever I could. Each journey added a new layer to my understanding of the world and myself.
When my contract ended, I stepped into months of waiting filled with uncertainty and questions about what would come next. For a woman in her 20s, without safety nets to fall back on, family responsibilities pressing on her shoulders, and a world that demands more than it gives, those months felt heavier than they looked.
The stress was real, yet patience has its own rewards. Eventually, I stepped into a role that gave me purpose once again. I was no longer just searching, I was serving.
- Contract ended, but passion never dies. I kept serving, building hope where it was most needed. From that fire, Uplift Somalia was born an organization co‑founded with others who shared the same vision. Our mission is simple: uplift youth, create opportunities, and support those in need in communities. Service doesn’t stop with a contract. Real purpose is building something that lasts beyond you.
- Mental health became my heartbeat cause. More than advocacy, it was a promise to speak where silence often wins. I knew its fragility, how easily overlooked yet how deeply it shapes every step we take. Through volunteer work, I joined a team reaching communities, listening to stories, and offering support. From that, I learned: when you help others heal, you heal too, and that is something I am proud of.
- In every training session and every meeting with youth, I saw their eagerness for guidance. I understood that mentorship matters deeply in uncertain times, and that not every voice should shape their journey. Guiding youth became my proud mission. I learned as much as I taught, giving and gaining in equal measure. I walked the same road alongside them, never missing the chance to meet my own mentors, whose wisdom continued to shape me.
- Back in the days, I was all about Facebook. Then my Gen Z side pulled me into TikTok, which quickly became my most‑used app, sometimes way too much scrolling. I even started streaks with friends, though I was terrible at keeping them alive. Forgetting the 24‑hour renewal meant they vanished, classic me. Still, I tried to use it with more purpose. Gradually, social media stopped being just noise and became a place for connection, growth, and sharing what matters most.
- I grew emotionally in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Learning about attachment theory gave me a new lens to see relationships and the hidden patterns behind them. It opened a window into understanding not only others but also myself. I began to realize that the bonds we form, the ways we connect, and even the struggles we face are deeply rooted in attachment. With that, I discovered a new way of thinking, living, and loving.
- At the same time, my academic journey continued to advance. Semester eight became a defining milestone proof that persistence can thrive even in the midst of chaos. Balancing studies with the demands of life required discipline, yet it also gave me clarity and reminded me that I was building something enduring. Now, at the finish line of my double bachelor’s, I’m ready to dedicate my certificate to my sister. Boom!
This year was never just a headline, it was an entire chapter. A collection of beginnings and farewells, of battles fought and victories earned, of passion that ignited and connections that sustained me. I grew in ways I hadn’t imagined. I sifted through friendships, reshaped the circle around me, and uncovered resilience in corners of myself I didn’t know existed. I learned to navigate instability, to face the tangled threads of family dynamics. It was not simple. There were days heavy with struggle, but there were also days where survival itself stood tall as a victory.
As the year closes, I look ahead not only for ease or good things, but for the bittersweet balance of joy and struggle. And with that, I close in the spirit of the song Sanad Waliba Hoodiyo sung by Badacas: “Waan heesayaayee sanad waliba hoodiyo, hawl iyo dhibaatiyo, wuxuu hadimo leeyahay, waa laga helaayoo hadhow lagu xasuustaa.” Looking to 2026, I echo his words: “Kii noo hagaagee noqo loo han weynyahay.”
