The Financial Advice I Ignored in My 20s (And Wish I Hadn’t)

When I look back at my twenties, I remember the gentle buoyancy of feeling a little invincible. There’s a unique lightness in those years—as if the runway will stretch forever, and every piece of advice about “future you” can wait. Friends, mentors, even parents would offer little scoops of wisdom about money, and I’d nod politely but rarely let it sink in. I felt sure that things would just work out; that money was something to figure out later, like flossing or eating leafy greens. I brushed off so much gentle guidance—sometimes with a laugh, sometimes with impatience. Now, with a bit of hard-won perspective, I wish I’d listened more closely to a few pieces in particular.

Below are the five most important lessons I half-heard but didn’t live out. Maybe you’re in your twenties now, or maybe you’re long past them—but these small seeds, if planted early, become the shade trees you’ll be grateful for later.

Start Investing with Your First Paycheck

I vividly remember my first job’s onboarding stack: HR paperwork, benefits forms, and a blurb about the company’s 401(k). Investing? I was 22—retirement felt as distant as the moon. I skipped the signup, thinking I’d revisit it once I “figured things out”—maybe after a raise, or once I bought fewer lunches out.

Looking back, missing those early years was the quietest, costliest mistake. The truth (as only time can prove) is that money invested early doesn’t just grow—it multiplies, quietly, in the background. The market’s ups and downs smooth out over years. Each little contribution becomes another stone in a bridge to your future. Even $25 a month would have put spirit behind the advice: “Start now, not when you have more.”

Waiting meant losing out on free employer matches, compounding gains, and the early comfort of watching something—anything—grow outside of my paycheck. Yes, any time is better than never. But if you’re reading this and can still open that account for the first time, know that this smallest step is one of the most powerful.

Avoid Debt You Can’t Repay in 6 Months

Credit cards in my twenties felt like “grown-up permission” to say yes to small indulgences: dinners out, that perfect dress, a flight to see a friend. The concept of “good debt” versus “bad debt” felt theoretical—surely those balances would be wiped soon, right?

I wish I’d heeded the rule: never take on new debt (outside of essentials like student loans or a car to get to work) that you couldn’t clear within six months. Not because all debt is evil, but because it’s so easy—especially with new freedom—to let balances creep. For years, I paid off cards on a delay and felt a low hum of stress as interest quietly accumulated.

If I’d approached borrowing more like borrowing a friend’s favorite sweater—something to return quickly—I would have sidestepped so many headaches and late-night worries. Money borrowed is like water let out of a dam: it rushes away easily, but takes slow, steady effort to collect again.

Always Have 3+ Months of Runway

One layoff. That was all it took to show me how thin my “safety net” really was. Before that, I treated extra cash as bonus money for trips or splurges; I heard about “emergency funds” and pictured an event that wouldn’t ever really happen to me.

When I finally did the math and realized my savings would last only a few nervous weeks, it hit: a true feeling of control comes from having at least three months’ runway. Not just because job searches take time, but because life’s storms don’t ask if you’re ready before they land.

It’s not glamorous to set aside cash for “nothing,” and in your twenties, almost nobody brags about their savings account. But that quiet fund is the difference between a stumble and a spiral; between a setback and a story of resilience. After that layoff, building my cushion came before any other goal—and I’ve never regretted it.

Wealth ≠ Success, but Lack of Money = Constant Stress

In my twenties, I believed that “success” looked like fancy job titles, packed calendars, and maybe a little bit of visible busyness. If I noticed finances at all, it was to wish for a raise, or laugh off how little I had as a badge of hustle.

But it turns out, wealth doesn’t guarantee happiness or confidence. What it does offer is quiet insulation—a kind of grace period against life’s curveballs. Lack of money, on the other hand, is its own gravity well. It seeps into decisions, gnaws at your sleep, and colors your relationships in ways subtle and stark.

Money, I’ve learned, is more like oxygen than applause: unnoticed when it’s abundant, high-stakes when it’s missing. True success is freedom from background worry, space in your days, and choices that match your values. I wish I’d internalized sooner that it’s not about chasing “wealth” as an end, but buffering against constant, corrosive stress.

Don’t Skimp on Health or Education

In my twenties, I sometimes skipped medical appointments, delayed buying new running shoes, or undervalued opportunities to learn (“I’ll take that class later, when things settle down…”). It’s easy to make health and learning optional when you feel invincible most days.

But neglecting either—health or education—is a debt that compounds faster than interest. A small untreated health issue can become a bigger one; a missed chance to learn can quietly close off future opportunities. Every hour spent investing in your body or your skills will come back to you, often in ways you can’t predict.

Now, I view healthcare and education like sunlight and water: the basics needed for everything else to bloom. Prioritize a checkup over a shopping spree. Say yes to the workshop or seminar, even if it stretches your budget a bit. Your future self only gets one body and a constantly shifting mind—tend to both, fiercely and kindly.

How I Think About Money Now

After a decade or so of trial, error, and finally listening, my relationship with money is warmer and wiser. I still make mistakes—but now I see money as a garden, not a scoreboard. It ebbs and flows. When I tend to the soil early, water consistently, and weed out bad habits kindly, things grow confidently over time.

I focus on systems, not stories: I don’t chase sudden windfalls, but compound tiny habits—automatic investments, simple budgets, pausing before buying. I try to listen to advice from people whose lives reflect peace, not just paychecks. And I make a point to support health and growth before anything else.

If you’re younger and brushing off “old advice,” or if you’re older and rediscovering basics, please know: it’s never too late to realign. Every good habit starts as a small, nearly invisible choice. And sometimes, a lesson you ignored years ago is exactly the one ready to take root and flourish.

If someone you care about offers financial wisdom, pause—just long enough to let it in, just in case it’s exactly what you’ll someday wish you’d heard. The seeds you plant today, even if late, still grow.

Pour yourself a cup of something warm. Check your accounts. Tend your own garden.

—

Claire West