I think I was supposed to be asking these questions when I was, like, 17.

I know it seems like I talk about my age a lot, but as I get older, I become acutely aware of it. I remember turning 25, for instance, and thinking I’d be in my twenties forever. Of course I thought I would be. There was plenty of time for my thirties and beyond at a later date, with which I was unconcerned and probably wasn’t going to come, for that matter.

But now that I’m 31, panic has set in. Not that I’m in a rush to do anything. I’m unmarried, childless, have very little assets to my name (unless you can slap shiny price tags with plenty of digits on two naughty cats and an eight-year-old vehicle), and that’s just fine with me. I realize we’re not getting any younger, but settling down, buying a house, having a family — those things just aren’t priorities to me right now. (I know you don’t believe me about the kids thing, but trust me, my biological clock ain’t tickin’.) Maybe they will be, maybe they won’t be, but I’m not in a hurry to check off any of those boxes.

But like I said, there’s still that nagging whirr of panic. I’m 31. And I don’t have anything to show for it. I’m not talking about progeny or material things. Nah. It’s more existential than that. It’s meaning. Being useful. Having purpose. It’s just not there.

Perhaps I’m in the minority. Perhaps everyone else with 2.5 kids, a picket fence, and a mid-life crisis looming just ahead of the erectile dysfunction diagnosis on the horizon could care less about their places in this world.

Despite it not being presumptively popular, I’m certainly not the only one in her early thirties feeling this inability to fulfill a higher calling. I actually had this text message exchange just this evening:

“You know how older people look back at their lives and regret what they did/didn’t do with it? I feel like that now.”

“We’re not old enough for that yet! What do you still want to do?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know but I don’t want to look back and regret anything.”

“You can still do those things.”

“I feel like there has to be something more to it than the everyday grind of the 9-5.”

But is there something more?

As Americans, we work. We work all the time. We work hard, we work hard, and we work hard some more. We squeeze in play wherever we can fit it, and make excuses when we don’t, justified by clucking tongues and pitying nods. Sometimes even play becomes work. We don’t mean it that way, but it does. And then sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between work and life.

Is that how it’s meant to be?

I’m not sure. I do know that I lead a generally privileged life. Not as a result of my upbringing, but because of sacrifices and hard work and smart moves and tears, lots of those. Does everyone have the same opportunity to make the same pivotal decisions that I could? Of course they don’t. Am I lucky? Absolutely am. Should I hoard that luck? I should think not.

Therein lies the problem. The purpose that’s so required to make charmed, spoiled grown-ups like me feel whole and maybe even a little bit special. It’s a First World dilemma to the highest degree, but there it is — the intense need to make your fortunate days on earth count for something. Or else, your horribly wonderful life seems so, well, gloriously vapid, doesn’t it?

Cue the violin. This one’s a real weeper.

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4 thoughts on “I think I was supposed to be asking these questions when I was, like, 17.

  1. Erica says:

    I was in Paris recently, and it reminded me that Americans work too hard. That we often put a lot of value on accumulating things we never wanted in the first place.

    Kinda reminds me of Tyler Durden in Fight Club: “I see all this potential, and I see it squandered. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables – slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars, but we won’t. We’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.”

    So how does it go? We’re working at jobs we hate, to buy things we don’t want, to impress people we don’t like…or something like that.

    Europeans live a slower life, centered around a different value system. While Americans have been busy cultivating the art of making money, Europeans have mastered the art of living.

    And it’s not just Europe. It’s in third world countries too. People who barely have enough food to eat, and yet they are happier than most Americans. Because they have entirely different expectations for their lives. They subscribe to different values. Not better or worse, but different.

    What I’ve been saying lately – the wish I have – is to explore those values. I’ve been calling it Fieldtrip For America. Cause I think that’s what we all need. To open our eyes and help us grasp what really matters. And then maybe, help make a difference.

    Here’s to finding your purpose and changing the world!

  2. Maggie says:

    I just want you to know that every day you amaze me… and that I adore the pee out of you.

  3. Katie says:

    Seems like if you were NOT having these feelings, you’d be in trouble :) We are always meant to be ‘works in progress’.

    The peeps with boxes checked and droning onward are the scary weird ones, I like that you push yourself (even though it feels shaky and crappy sometimes, I get that) to move ever forward. You are on the right path by the mere fact that you are still ON the damn path. Screw the lengthy pit stops.

    I find that getting these kinds of answers only happens when I stop thinking on it. Usually when I’m focused on someone else or something else that has nothing to do with me or my future or my dreams or my fears.

    When I let go of the scary uncertainties and put my energy into just doing and being and loving and feeling and trusting… things open up. You’ve already got the answer, sometimes you need to let your brain be quiet enough to hear it.

    For what it’s worth – one of the things I admire most about you is your fearless ability to say FUCK YES. I think that those ‘yes’-es will continue to guide you. You are truly a great gal.

  4. Rehan Qayoom says:

    SNAP! Though I take it you have somewhere to live.

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