I was recently scrolling through Instagram, not paying much attention – there’s only so many pictures of people in well-coordinated outfits posing in front of European tourist attractions that I can care to appreciate.
But then, out of nowhere, up pops an ad saying, “If you’re 23, read this,” in big block letters – surely just a scam trying to sell me something I surmise… before reading it anyway.
Of course I was right, it was an advert for life insurance. So, as I’m swiping through the small squares of information explaining how I can save for retirement or help pay for my funeral I start to wonder, ‘Have I lived enough to warrant the need for life insurance?’.
At 23, to be honest, I don’t feel any more grown up than I did when I turned 18.
I can still only cook two dishes because I made them religiously whilst prepping for my Home Economics GCSE. Legally I can drive but from an emotional and physical perspective perhaps I shouldn’t. I definitely don’t drink enough water and probably too many pints. I still live at home and (as we established in a previous column a few weeks ago) the current dating scene is dire.
- ‘After trying Tinder, Bumble and Hinge, I wish we could do it the old-fashioned way’Opens in new window
- ‘It’s good to dream’ – True love, socialism and screen tests in coming-of-age true story from Tony MacaulayOpens in new window
- Nicola Coughlan’s body shape in Bridgerton shouldn’t be a source of debateOpens in new window
This sent me into the throes of what I’m calling a premature quarter-life crisis. Which is a very different animal to its middle-aged cousin, mostly because no-one in their early to mid-twenties can afford a vintage Jag or a motorbike.
Traditionally there have been several milestones which have signified a person’s transition into adulthood. However, the problem with this in today’ society is that the goal posts have changed. Our grandparents may have been married at 21 but today most 21-year-olds struggle to commit to their favourite flavour of Pot Noodle let alone another person.
Our childhood visions of who we were going to be when we grew up, influenced by listening to parental anecdotes of their achievements and reinforced by TV and films are no longer realistic. Owing to factors like the cost of living, unaffordable housing, less job security and lower incomes, the traditional and societal markers of adulthood such as owning a home, getting married and having children are being pushed back.
It strikes me that we are living in a time of extreme contradiction – young people are told they have a kaleidoscope of opportunity but are fettered by a complete lack of stability.
Our grandparents may have been married at 21 but today most 21-year-olds struggle to commit to their favourite flavour of Pot Noodle let alone another person
Social media is also a big part of the problem. We’re constantly being exposed to the best parts of people’s lives which automatically makes us feel dissatisfied with our own.
In the last six months I have seen a ridiculous amount of wedding montages, gushing engagement posts and ‘dream job’ announcements from people I went to school with. Which does perpetuate this narrative of the grass is always greener and adds to the fear of not being where you should be.
However, the good - or perhaps the comforting - news is I don’t think I’m alone. Having spoken to friends, family and following some all-important Googling, it transpires that having a quarter-life crisis is fairly common. According to LinkedIn research 75% of 23- to 33-year-olds have experienced this phenomenon.
There’s no doubt my generation has the odds stacked against them, but in our collective struggle we are a community. We are not afraid to talk about how we feel, although we should probably talk more. We stand up for the causes we think matter and we are not willing to have a life half-lived – or in this case quarter-lived.
One day I will move into a place of my own but in the meantime, I’ll focus on keeping my room tidy. One step at a time.
