Although everything seems to be going well, our author is in crisis and calls for greater acceptance of alternative life paths after age 30.
Transience can be so beautiful Photo by: Benjakon
I'm in a real crisis. Everything is fine, actually. I have a job that I sometimes even think is pretty good. I'm in a committed relationship that is sometimes even very happy. I have good friends who I can even see sometimes. I could sit back and enjoy life. But I'm tormented by the feeling that things can't go on like this anymore.
Human existence is a crisis, but some crises stand out. There is the well-known midlife crisis, which supposedly affects mostly men between 40 and 55 years old. During this time, the person regrets the lost opportunities in life and becomes more aware of his mortality. So he clings to his youth by getting a Porsche and/or a young lover, or so the cliché goes.
The quarter-life crisis has been known for some years and mainly affects people in their twenties, when they have to really be “adults” for the first time, for example after graduating from university. This time is associated with disorientation and a grueling struggle for one's place in the world.
Now you might think that it is thirties It fits in well. You are no longer an intern, but someone people actually listen to. The “fomo” (fear of missing out) no longer plagues you because you have already been to some crazy parties and can appreciate the peace and quiet.
On the other hand, you won't attract negative attention if you want to go clubbing (at least in Berlin). It seems to be the best of both worlds. Rather, it seems as if both crises have merged into one new crisis.
I don't feel like I've arrived yet and I don't know what the next steps should be. Like after university. At the same time I feel immense pressure. Like I'm at the end of an important period of time. Like: now or never.
And that's where the midlife crisis shows its face. I may still be young, but I'm not the youngest anymore. The first wear and tear is here: I really need to sleep now and after drinking wine I get heartburn. And I also see more grey hairs, the first wrinkles and the first aches and pains in my friends. And we realised that we were older and still looking for something. Right after what?
A wonderful future awaited
Last year I read Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar for the first time. In it she writes: “Like thick, purple figs, a wonderful future beckoned and beckoned from the tip of every branch. Plath impressively described how, as a young person, one is paralyzed before an immense selection of life plans, unable to make a decision.
I drew a parallel with my current situation. I too feel at a crossroads and have to make a decision. And some of the figs now seem to have withered or seem further away than ever.
I don't want to start a family. The time for any kind of career advancement seems to be over too. The life of a dropout seems unpleasant to me. Travelling forever is too tiring. Continuing as you are will become embarrassing at some point. You have to take the leap.
Do I still want to live the same life at 50 as I did at 30?
Then the coin fell. My diffuse concerns, this pressure, these ideas: they have their origin in the extremely negative and one-sided image of age beyond 30 that is anchored in society.
This is especially true for women. There is the narrative of the poor woman who simply missed out on a chance at a good life (home/children). Who has now withered away and doesn’t notice that everyone on the dance floor is dancing with each other, but no one is dancing with her. She “just stood there” and “failed to survive.”
This also applies to the professional realm: if you don't start now, when will you? There's a reason we have the “30 under 30” section. Of course I know there are many paths to the so-called good life. I know that turning 30 is far from the end.
From the age of 25, your circle of friends decreases
Just think of Sex and the City, where the main characters are in their 30s and still drink cocktails, party and seduce men, at least in the first seasons. Because Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte also get married and sometimes have children. Even Samantha calms down. There are no role models to challenge the unconscious fear of “falling short.”
At the same time, fear is repeatedly confirmed by reality. A study by Aalto University and Oxford University says: Up to the age of 25, the circle of friends increases steadily. After that, there will be fewer and fewer of them.
It seems that the downward trend intensifies even more from the age of 30 onwards. If you look at your circle of friends, some are in the same situation as you, but many others are evolving, climbing the branches and leaving you behind. They start families, have great careers. Suddenly there is a lack of time and mutual understanding.
Even if I want to leave everything as it is now. How long will this last? How long will I have friends to spend the night with? How long will my body endure this? Will I continue to regret my decisions?
Life goes on, and in this case it is a threat. It is a time of disorientation and loneliness, of social pressure and lack of alternatives: welcome to the third crisis of life. What to do?
The media needs to stop age-phobic narratives and show the diversity of life beyond 30. We as a society need to create opportunities that simplify and enable a life outside of traditional family and professional structures. Each and every one of us has to deal with our prejudices. These are all big upheavals and it takes time. Until then, I hope to make it two full years before the mid-life crisis hits me.