二十不努力，三十徒傷悲

When I was in my 20s， I saw my very first 1）psychotherapy client. She was a 26-year-old woman named Alex. Now Alex walked into her first session wearing jeans and a big 2）slouchy top， and she dropped onto the couch in my office and kicked off her flats and told me she was there to talk about guy problems. Now when I heard this， I was so relieved. My classmate got an 3）arsonist for her first client. And I got a twenty-something who wanted to talk about boys. This I thought I could handle.

But I didn’t handle it. “Thirty’s the new 20，” Alex would say， and as far as I could tell， she was right. Work happened later， marriage happened later， kids happened later， even death happened later.

But before long， my supervisor pushed me to push Alex about her love life. I pushed back.

I said， “Sure， she’s dating down， but it’s not like she’s gonna marry the guy.”

And then my supervisor said， “Not yet， but she might marry the next one. Besides， the best time to work on Alex’s marriage is before she has one.”

That’s what psychologists call an “Aha！”moment. That was the moment I realized， 30 is not the new 20.

There are 50 million twenty-somethings in the United States right now. We’re talking about 15 percent of the population， or 100 percent if you consider that no one’s getting through adulthood without going through their 20s first.

So I specialize in twenty-somethings because I believe that every single one of those 50 million twenty-somethings deserves to know what psychologists， sociologists， 4）neurologists and 5）fertility specialists already know： that claiming your 20s is one of the simplest， yet most 6）transformative， things you can do for work， for love， for your happiness， maybe even for the world.

But this isn’t what twenty-somethings are hearing. Newspapers talk about the changing timetable of adulthood. Researchers call the 20s an extended adolescence. As a culture， we have 7）trivialized what is actually the defining decade of adulthood.

But then it starts to sound like this： “My 20s are almost over， and I have nothing to show for myself. I had a better résumé the day after I graduated from college.”

And then it starts to sound like this： “Dating in my 20s was like 8）musical chairs. Everybody was running around and having fun， but then sometime around 30 it was like the music turned off and everybody started sitting down. I didn’t want to be the only one left standing up， so sometimes I think I married my husband because he was the closest chair to me at 30.”

Where are the twenty-somethings here？ Do not do that.

The post-millennial midlife crisis isn’t buying a red sports car. It’s realizing you can’t have that career you now want. It’s realizing you can’t have that child you now want， or you can’t give your child a sibling. Too many thirty-somethings and forty-somethings look at themselves， and at me， sitting across the room， and say about their 20s， “What was I doing？ What was I thinking？”

I want to change what twenty-somethings are doing and thinking.

Here’s a story about how that can go. It’s a story about a woman named Emma. At 25， Emma came to my office because she was， in her words， having an identity crisis. She said she thought she might like to work in art or entertainment， but she hadn’t decided yet， so she’d spent the last few years waiting tables instead. Because it was cheaper， she lived with a boyfriend who displayed his temper more than his ambition. And as hard as her 20s were， her early life had been even harder. She often cried in our sessions， but then would collect herself by saying， “You can’t pick your family， but you can pick your friends.”

Well one day， Emma comes in and she hangs her head in her lap， and she sobbed for most of the hour. She’d just bought a new address book， and she’d spent the morning filling in her many contacts， but then she’d been left staring at that empty blank that comes after the words“In case of emergency， please call...” She was nearly 9）hysterical when she looked at me and said， “Who’s gonna be there for me if I get in a car wreck？ Who’s gonna take care of me if I have cancer？”

So over the next weeks and months， I told Emma three things that every twentysomething， male or female， deserves to hear.

First， I told Emma to forget about having an identity crisis and get some identity capital. By get identity capital， I mean do something that adds value to who you are. So now is the time for that cross-country job， that internship， that startup you want to try. I’m not discounting twenty-something exploration here， but I am discounting exploration that’s not supposed to count， which， by the way， is not exploration. That’s 10）procrastination. I told Emma to explore work and make it count.

Second， I told Emma that the 11）urban tribe is overrated. That new piece of capital， that new person to date almost always comes from outside the inner circle. New things come from what are called our weak ties， our friends of friends of friends. So yes， half of twenty-somethings are unor under-employed. But half aren’t， and weak ties are how you get yourself into that group. Half of new jobs are never posted， so reaching out to your neighbor’s boss is how you get that un-posted job. It’s not cheating. It’s the science of how information spreads.

Last but not least， Emma believed that you can’t pick your family， but you can pick your friends. Now this was true for her growing up， but as a twenty-something， soon Emma would pick her family when she partnered with someone and created a family of her own. I told Emma the time to start picking your family is now. The best time to work on your marriage is before you have one， and that means being as intentional with love as you are with work. Picking your family is about consciously choosing who and what you want， rather than just making it work or killing time with whoever happens to be choosing you.

So what happened to Emma？ Well， we went through that address book， and she found an old roommate’s cousin who worked at an art museum in another state. That weak tie helped her get a job there. That job offer gave her the reason to leave that live-in boyfriend. Now， five years later， she’s a special events planner for museums. She’s married to a man she mindfully chose. She loves her new career， she loves her new family， and she sent me a card that said， “Now the emergency contact blanks don’t seem big enough.”

So here’s an idea worth spreading to every twenty-something you know. It’s what I now have the 12）privilege of saying to twenty-somethings like Emma every single day： Thirty is not the new 20， so claim your adulthood， get some identity capital， use your weak ties， pick your family. Don’t be defined by what you didn’t know or didn’t do. You’re deciding your life right now.

當(dāng)我二十多歲時，我見到了我的首位來做心理治療的病人。她是一位叫亞歷克斯的26歲女性。第一次會診時，亞歷克斯穿了牛仔褲和一件寬大松垮的上衣，進(jìn)來后一屁股坐到我辦公室中的沙發(fā)上，踢掉她的平底鞋，然后跟我說，她是來跟我談男友問題的。當(dāng)我聽到這個時，我松了一口氣。我一同學(xué)遇到的第一個病人就是個縱火犯。而我的是一位二十幾歲、想跟我談?wù)勀猩牟∪恕Ｎ矣X得自己能處理好這病案。

但我沒做到。“30就是新的20”，亞歷克斯會這么說，而且就我所知，她是對的。工作靠后，婚姻靠后， 孩子靠后，就連死也靠后了。

但沒過多久，我的導(dǎo)師就督促我，讓我向亞歷克斯的愛情生活施力規(guī)勸。我回絕了。

我說：“沒錯，她在和一個很差勁的人交往，但這并不表示她會和他結(jié)婚。”

然后我的導(dǎo)師說：“現(xiàn)在還沒，但她可能會和下一個這樣的人結(jié)婚。再說，在亞歷克斯的婚事上花費精力的最佳時機就是在她結(jié)婚之前。”

這就是心理學(xué)家們所說的“頓悟時刻”。在那一刻，我明白到，30歲并不是新的20歲。

現(xiàn)在美國大約有五千萬二十多歲的人。這大概就是總?cè)丝诘?5%，或者說是100%——如果你考慮到?jīng)]有人會不先經(jīng)歷二十多歲這個階段而直接步入成年期的話。

所以，我專門研究二十多歲的人，因為我相信這五千萬個二十多歲的人中每一個都應(yīng)該知道心理學(xué)家、社會學(xué)家、神經(jīng)學(xué)家以及生育專家們都已然了解的事實：那就是把握住你二十多歲的時光是你能為自己的職業(yè)、愛情、幸福，甚至是為世界所能做的最簡單的，但又是最有影響力的事。……