The Quarter Life Crisis

A few years ago, I heard my older friends talk about their experience of a ‘quarter life crisis.’ Of course I understood the premise of it, but the expression seemed melodramatic and self-aggrandizing. I didn’t understand how anyone could face a life crisis at that age. A few weeks before my twentieth birthday, I realized that my friends weren’t being melodramatic, as I faced a substantial quarter life crisis of my own.

My quarter life crisis came during the summer before my third year of university. For two years, I was able to live comfortably with little thought to what the next year would bring. My second year of university would lead to my third year, and my third year would lead to my fourth. Beyond fourth year, my plans became hazy. I realized that I had no idea what I was going to do after graduation, and I had no larger vision of my future. I had spent most of my life considering various professions, ranging from astronaut to jockey. The former I abandoned because I’m quite claustrophobic, and the latter I abandoned because I’m 5’10. I was working at a trust company, and I realized that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life working in the field I was in. I pictured my future, and all I saw were a few tumbleweeds rolling by.

This is when the crisis begins, when the future looms invisibly. We come out of high school so young, and try to set ourselves on a path that will help us to achieve some sort of a long-term goal – whatever that happens to be. We all feel inclined to accumulate as much as possible, whether it is money or education, so we can go forth into the world and feel like we have some tools for success. The thing is, most of us don’t know what path we want to be on, let alone our long-term goals. We accumulate some knowledge that may end up being relevant to our lives, like the ability to communicate clearly, and some other knowledge that may not be as relevant, like the ability to recite passages from The Canterbury Tales. We’re told constantly that we can change our minds and change our careers many times throughout our lives. My only vision of the future when I think of career changes is an image of my seventeen-year-old self crying because I couldn’t even get a job at a grocery store. Most of us require an illusion of certainty in our lives, and don’t necessarily want to face the idea that we have no idea where we will be a year from now, let alone in a decade. If you’re one of those people who can face an abyss and jump right in, I envy and applaud you. Though I very much valuable spontaneity – you never know where you’ll find me on a given day – I’m also comforted by an elements of consistency in my life, like sitting with the same friends in classes and eating grilled cheese on Thursday. We want to go some place new, particularly those of us who grew up in the suburbs, but the only place we can think of when we are asked where to go is not here.

So why does our uncertainty tend to turn into a moment of crisis at age twenty? Because we are not yet at a point when we can make that jump into the abyss, regardless of how ready we are for it. All we can do is stand on the edge and anticipate it. We can’t go screaming headlong into the future because we have a few more years of schooling, or a few more years at the bottom of a corporate hierarchy before we get to the position we want. Yet we know that we need to come up with some sort of plan, for fear that we’ll never go any further than we’ve already gone if we don’t. We begin to wonder if we’re just having delusions of grandeur and this really is as far as we’re going to go.

The good thing about this moment of crisis is that it means you won’t let yourself get complacent. It is often better to look at the future and see a question mark than to look at the future and see yourself exactly where you are. The uncertainty leaves you open to possibilities. We all need to realize that it will work out in the end. We just don’t know when it is going to work out, or what is going to work out anyway. All we can do in the meantime is learn from the moment of crisis, do the best we can right now, and hope that if we find ourselves on a path we don’t want to be going down, we will always have the courage to set out on a new path. The moment of crisis will always return, but that’s what keeps our lives from staying static. Breathe, take out the recycling – I appreciate the illusion of order – and allow yourself to work through it. If you know what your goals are in life, get ready for to work for them, and get ready to find that you’ve taken the wrong turn from time to time. Allow your goals to change without feeling like a failure for changing paths. Also accept that some days you will feel like a failure. Figure out why you feel that way and set yourself right, and allow yourself to continue even if you don’t know what your plan is any more. Accept your limitations, but don’t let them define you. For today, accept the journey and realize that many of us feel as lost as you do.

As for my personal crisis, a good friend helped me through it. Then I had a second crisis. And then a third. Actually, I had one yesterday, which is why I wrote this post. I probably need this post even more than anyone else does. My friend Katie is in first year, and recently told me that I looked like I had it all figured out. I agree. I look like I have it all figured out. I don’t, of course, but most days I’m content move forth through the uncertainty. I like where I am, and who I am, and who I’m with. As long as I always have happiness as my goal – my happiness and the happiness of others – I’ll get somewhere I want to go. Eventually. For now, I’m on a journey.

Song of the Day: Uncorrected Proofs by The Weakerthans