What Twenty(ish)-Year-Olds Already Know About Their Thirty-Five Year Old Future Self

I asked 40 undergraduate Honors College students based on what they know about themselves now what would they would tell their 35-year-old self.

Their answers encouraged me!

My cynical side thought they mostly would be naïve, overly idealistic, or full of predictable optimism of young adulthood. They encouraged me because so many of them were already wrestling with the same issues that follow people deep into adulthood: fear, uncertainty, comparison, purpose, health, money, relationships, faith, happiness, and the pressure to have life figured out.

At first glance, it is easy to assume that college students would give simple advice to their future selves. Work hard. Make money. Be successful. Get the job. Build the life. Achieve the dream. And yes, some of those ideas were present, but what emerged was much deeper than ambition. Their advice was not mainly about achievement. It was about becoming.

They were not simply imagining résumés. They were imagining lives.

And buried in their responses was a powerful reminder for all of us: wisdom does not always wait for age. Sometimes young adults can see clearly what older adults have forgotten. I organized their responses into eight (8) themes:

One of the strongest themes was the need to keep growing, trying, adapting, and learning. Several students said they would tell their 35-year-old selves to never stop trying new things, not be afraid of change, and not fear failure. That may sound simple, but it is one of the most important lessons adulthood tries to beat out of us.

By 35, many people have built routines, careers, family systems, habits, and identities. Those things can be good. Stability matters. Responsibility matters. Discipline matters. But the danger is that stability can quietly become stagnation. A person can become so committed to keeping life manageable that they stop letting life be meaningful.

One student said she fears becoming stagnant and monotonous. That is a profound fear. Not because routine is bad, but because a life without growth slowly becomes a life without imagination. The advice from these students was clear: do not let adulthood make you rigid. Do not let responsibility kill curiosity. Do not let failure convince you to stop becoming.

The 35-year-old version of yourself still needs permission to begin again.

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Another theme was patience. Students repeatedly said some version of this: life is a marathon, not a race. Take small steps in the right direction. Just because something takes time does not mean it is not worth it. Time is going to pass anyway.

That last idea may be one of the most practical pieces of wisdom anyone can receive. Time is going to pass anyway. The question is not whether five years will go by. The question is who you are becoming while those five years pass.

This is especially important in a culture that pushes speed, comparison, and instant visibility. We want immediate proof that the work matters. We want quick confirmation that we are on the right path. We want success to arrive fast enough to calm our anxiety. But real growth rarely works that way. Character takes time. Skill takes time. Healing takes time. Maturity takes time. Calling takes time.

Several students seemed to understand something many adults forget: you do not need a rigid plan for your entire life. You need direction. You need values. You need goals that guide you. But you also need enough flexibility to respond to life as it unfolds.

At 35, the temptation may be to think you are behind. But behind what? Behind whom? Behind which imaginary timeline? The students’ advice pushes back against that pressure. Keep moving. Keep building. Keep taking the next faithful step. The work may be slow, but slow does not mean wasted.

A third theme was perspective. Many students said they would tell their future selves not to stress so much, not to be so hard on themselves, and to remember that some things are not that big of a deal.

That is not shallow advice. It is emotionally intelligent advice.

Much of adulthood is spent carrying invisible pressure. Pressure to succeed. Pressure to provide. Pressure to look competent. Pressure to make the right decisions. Pressure to keep up. Pressure to be admired. Pressure to avoid mistakes. Pressure to appear calm while privately feeling overwhelmed.

The students seemed to recognize that stress can distort reality. It can make small things feel enormous. It can turn temporary problems into identity statements. It can make uncertainty feel like failure. It can convince us that we must have everything figured out before we are allowed to move forward.

But one of the most repeated ideas was this: be okay with not knowing how everything will turn out.

That may be one of the clearest definitions of maturity. Maturity is not having all the answers. Maturity is learning how to live wisely when you do not have all the answers. It is holding goals without gripping them so tightly that you lose your peace. It is working hard without making your worth depend on the outcome. It is caring deeply without letting anxiety become your operating system.

The 35-year-old self needs to remember: not everything deserves your panic.

Another major theme was the desire to live fully. Students talked about traveling, making memories, doing the things they want to do, stepping outside their comfort zones, and not looking back with regret. Several reminded their future selves that life is short and that nothing should be taken for granted.

This advice carries a certain urgency. It is not reckless. It is not an invitation to abandon responsibility. It is a reminder that life is not meant to be postponed indefinitely.

Many adults become experts at delay. We say we will take the trip later. We will pursue the dream later. We will reconnect with people later. We will take care of our health later. We will slow down later. We will enjoy life later. Then later becomes a habit, and the habit becomes a life.

One student captured this beautifully by saying, in essence, that you are the oldest you have ever been and the youngest you will ever be again. That line should stop us. It reminds us that every season of life is both an ending and a beginning. You have never had more experience than you have right now, and you will never again have this exact amount of time, energy, opportunity, and possibility.

That does not mean you must live frantically. It means you should live attentively. Pay attention to beauty. Pay attention to people. Pay attention to the moments that are easy to overlook while chasing the next milestone.

The goal is not merely to build a life you can explain. The goal is to build a life you can inhabit.

Students also returned to meaning. They talked about happiness, faith, health, community, nature, and doing what matters. One student said she would tell her 35-year-old self to do what makes her happy and trust in God. Another pointed to community, nature, and health as the things that matter most.

That kind of advice is worth taking seriously.

By 35, many people have discovered that achievement alone cannot carry the full weight of a life. Achievement is good, but it is not enough. A person can be accomplished and empty. Successful and lonely. Productive and unhealthy. Admired and spiritually dry. Busy and deeply disconnected.

These students seemed to understand that life needs an anchor deeper than accomplishment. For some, that anchor was faith. For others, it was relationships, health, purpose, or joy. But the shared message was clear: do not confuse motion with meaning.

This is one of the great dangers of adulthood. We can get so busy managing life that we forget to ask whether we are living the right life. We can become so focused on what needs to be done that we lose sight of who we are becoming. We can win at the schedule and lose at the soul.

The 35-year-old self needs to ask hard questions. Am I healthy? Am I present? Am I connected? Am I becoming more compassionate? Am I living from faith or fear? Am I chasing what matters, or am I simply chasing what looks impressive?

Another theme was self-care in the truest sense of the word. Students advised their future selves to take care of their health, become independent, stop comparing themselves to others, and do what is best for themselves.

This was not self-care as indulgence. It was self-care as stewardship.

Health matters. Mental health matters. Emotional health matters. Spiritual health matters. The body keeps score. The mind carries patterns. The soul can become weary. The relationships around us are affected by the condition within us.

One student specifically mentioned the need to stop comparing her experiences to others. That is a lesson many people still need at 35, 45, 55, and beyond. Comparison is exhausting because it forces you to measure your private reality against someone else’s public presentation. It convinces you that your life is late, small, or inadequate simply because it does not look like someone else’s.

But your life is not someone else’s assignment. Your timeline is not someone else’s timeline. Your path is not invalid because it looks different.

Taking care of yourself means learning to live responsibly within your own life. It means knowing when to push and when to rest. It means becoming independent without becoming isolated. It means doing what is wise, not merely what is expected.

The students also understood the importance of relationships. They advised their future selves to stay close to loved ones, check in on people, communicate, practice empathy, and respect others’ opinions even when they disagree.

That may be one of the most hopeful themes in their responses.

In a world that often rewards self-promotion, these students were still thinking about connection. They recognized that empathy and communication are essential to understanding others. They recognized that relationships require attention. They recognized that community matters.

This is vital because relationships rarely fall apart all at once. They usually drift. People get busy. Messages go unanswered. Calls get postponed. Assumptions grow. Pride hardens. Distance becomes normal. Then one day, we realize we have not lost people through conflict as much as through neglect.

The advice here is simple but demanding: check in. Listen well. Stay humble. Respect others. Communicate before distance becomes resentment. Love people while you have the chance.

At 35, life may be more complex. Careers may be more demanding. Families may require more energy. Responsibilities may multiply. But connection still matters. Maybe it matters more.

One of the more practical themes was financial responsibility. Students advised their future selves to save money in smart ways and make decisions that build independence and stability.

That advice may not sound poetic, but it is profoundly important. Money is not everything, but financial disorder can create enormous stress. Wise financial habits create options. They reduce unnecessary pressure. They make generosity possible. They allow people to say yes and no with greater freedom.

What stood out was not a desire to become wealthy for the sake of status. It was a desire to become responsible. That distinction matters. Money should serve a meaningful life, not become the meaning of life.

The 35-year-old self needs financial wisdom because adulthood brings real obligations. Housing, family, health, transportation, education, emergencies, aging parents, children, career transitions, and unexpected losses all require preparation. Saving wisely is not fear-based living. It is future-aware living.

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When I look across all these responses, I see more than advice. I see a portrait of young adults trying to make sense of the future before they get there. I see students who know that life will be hard and beautiful. I see students who understand that success matters, but not as much as peace, purpose, growth, faith, health, and love.

They are not simply asking, “How do I become successful?” They are asking better questions.

• How do I become resilient?

• How do I stay open to change?

• How do I stop being so hard on myself?

• How do I live without regret?

• How do I trust the process?

• How do I stay connected to people?

• How do I become wise?

• How do I remember what matters?

Those are not childish questions. Those are deeply human questions.

Perhaps the most striking thing about their advice is that much of it applies not only to a 35-year-old self, but to every version of ourselves. The 20-year-old needs it. The 35-year-old needs it. The 50-year-old needs it. The retired person needs it. The leader needs it. The parent needs it. The student needs it.

• Keep growing.

• Be patient.

• Stop panicking over small things.

• Live fully.

• Take care of your health.

• Stay close to people.

• Trust God.

• Save wisely.

• Do not compare.

• Begin again when you need to.

Maybe the best advice to our future selves is also the advice we need right now.

Because the future self is not created someday. The future self is being formed today, quietly, through the habits we practice, the fears we face, the people we love, the decisions we make, and the meaning we choose to pursue.

The students were asked what they would tell their 35-year-old selves. But maybe they were also telling the rest of us something we need to hear. Do not wait until later to become the kind of person you hope to be.