The Quarterlife Crisis

If you’re anything like me, you’re staring into the glow of your computer wondering where your life is headed.   You’re probably in your 20′s, your job probably sucks, and the sweet memory of academia, be it undergrad or beyond, is probably still dancing merrily on your hippocampus.  If this doesn’t describe you, get comfy, because this post may enlighten you about what’s really going on with all those pretty, seemingly happy twentysomethings that brush past you on the street.  But if it does, you’re probably suffering from the phenomenon known as the quarterlife crisis.

Sure, the QLC isn’t quite the phase our parents went through in their 40′s.  There are no convertibles, our sexual escapades don’t involve partners half our age (that would just be disturbing), and hair plugs are not a viable solution.  No, the quarterlife crisis is much subtler than its better-known big brother.  But nevertheless, it’s an issue, and a widespread one at that.

Boiled down, the quarterlife crisis is a psychological episode that manifests through feelings of dread, depression, and remorse.  Afflicted twentysomethings are generally depressed because their lives haven’t turned out the way they envisioned.  The remorse comes from the feeling that poor life choices led to their lackluster existence, while dread sets in when they start to believe that their dreams will never be realized and contentment will never come.  Fun stuff, right?

If I had to pinpoint it, I would say my quarterlife crisis began just as the new freshmen were beginning their tenure at my alma mater the fall after I graduated from college.  I had just finished a long and glorious stint as a summer session English teacher, and the doors of opportunity were wide open.  And so, like any bright-eyed new graduate would do, I entered the workforce with a dream: to do what I wanted to do and make good money while I was at it.

Unfortunately, corporate America had another plan for me, and I was outrightly rebuffed from all my hopes and dreams.  Not only could I not get the job I wanted, I couldn’t get a job at all (note: in the context of this argument, wearing titles like “barista,” “fry jockey,” or “book shelver” do not constitute having a job)!  So, as I watched my bank account unsympathetically deplete, I desperately took a job at a sales firm in the hopes that I could make enough money to hold me over until something better came along.

As you can imagine, nothing did, and I stayed at my 7-to-9 (that’s AM to PM, mind you) far longer than I had originally envisioned.  Working alongside college dropouts and essentially reclaiming door-to-door sales back from the Mormons, I, more than ever before, felt that I was truly scraping the bottom of the barrel.

The winds of fate soon changed, however, and I was given a chance to sublet my friend’s apartment in New York City.  I jumped at the opportunity, since New York is a locus for the kind of work I wanted to be in and it has always been my dream to live there.  So I moved and began the first steps in my new life.  Unfortunately, just as I had found back in the coziness of the ‘burbs, the job market sucked and apparently no one was interested that I had just received my bachelor’s and wanted to put it to use.  After a month of job searching, I was desperate and bit at the first hook that dropped into my little pond.  That hook came in the form of an Israeli consulting firm in need of a marketing associate.  It wasn’t really what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t sales and it offered a steady paycheck, which was good enough for me.

That was a year ago.  Fast forward to now, and you will find me in more or less an unchanged situation.  My job is still unrewarding, I am overpaying for an apartment in a neighborhood and city I loathe, and things don’t look to be changing any time soon.  Sure, I can change the view out of my window or switch careers, but I know each step I make will be but a tiny advance toward my dream: to make a life for myself that truly makes me happy.  Seeing as the world seems built on a system of “paying your dues,” true contentment, I know, will come much later than I’d really like.  Thus is the quarterlife crisis: feeling the burden of shouldering the shit of life without basking in any of its perks.

The good news is, I’m not alone.  Nearly everyone I know who is my age and not kidding themselves is currently going through this (and with no foreseeable end).  It’s a tough stretch, but the power in numbers makes it all a bit more bearable.  Even more comforting, though, is the fact that I know things will change.  Most people eventually find a life that works for them, and if they don’t, there’s probably something wrong with them to begin with.  God knows when that day arrives, I’ll be enjoying my contentment to the fullest.  That is, of course, until my inevitable mid-life crisis…