The "Quarter-Life Crisis"
What did you worry about in your mid- to late-20s? (If you're that age now, what *do* you worry about?) An Oldster Magazine open thread, for everyone, of all ages.
Readers,
This week I was quoted twice in The New York Times Style section, first for an article by Callie Holtermann about Gen Z and its anxiety about aging, then for a piece by Guy Trebay about about Nikki Haley resorting to what seem like ageist tropes, in her Republican Presidential primary campaign.
Those articles brought in lots of additional subscribers. If you’re new here, welcome to Oldster Magazine! It’s great to have you here. This publication is known for “Exploring what it means to travel through time in a human body, at every phase of life.” It’s where everyone of every age is considered an “oldster,” because we’re all aging, and we’re all the oldest we’ve ever been, which feels like a big deal, no matter where you sit on the aging spectrum.
Every other Friday, I post an “open thread,” in which I talk about a topic and my own experience with it, then invite you to respond with a comment about your own experience and/or perspective. (On alternating Fridays, I post Link Roundups.) The open threads have contributed greatly to building the Oldster community, a wonderfully supportive, growing group of people who have been connecting and getting to know one another in the comments, and among whom an intergenerational conversation has been happening—something I have been trying to foster as a way to normalize and destigmatize aging, and combat ageism.
The last open thread I published, on arthritis and joint pain, has received over 400 comments so far! (I’ll go to the orthopedist again on Monday for my MRI results and a plan. Wish me luck.)
For today’s open thread, I’m going to take as a jumping-off point the Gen Z piece I was interviewed for in The New York Times.
I was asked whether Gen Z’s preoccupation with aging—and their already seeking beauty treatments to preserve their youthful skin—was anything new, and also whether the pervasiveness of appearance-centric social media made these concerns more urgent for 20somethings. I had a lot of things to say—both yes and no—but the only quote of mine that made it in (as a journalist myself, I know this is just how it goes!) was one in which I said that it was probably the standard “quarter-life crisis,” something I went through to, 30 or so years ago, long before the advent of social media.
Sometimes many of us—my 58-year-old self included—can default to being dismissive of younger people’s concerns about aging. But when I look back on my mid- to late-20s, I recall being pretty constantly freaked out about how old I was getting, and whether time was running out for certain things. I felt as if there was a meter running on every aspect of my life—my career, my biological clock, my changing body, my chance at a solid, lasting relationship.
I thought I’d ask all of you to look back at that time in your life, and see what you recall being anxious about. What did you worry over when you were in your mid- to late-20s—back when that was the oldest you had ever been? Were you afraid that time was running out for you, on certain fronts? And, of course, those readers who are Gen Z (which I hear ends around 27, if you believe age groups are real, etc., etc.), I want to hear about what concerns you right now. Tell us in the comments.
In a recent Oldster essay, 68-year-old New York City nightlife writer Michael Musto reflected back to worrying at 28 that he was already a has-been. I remember thinking something similar. I felt stuck in trade publishing, writing for industry magazines like Body Fashions/Intimate Apparel, Home Furnishing News, and Women’s Wear Daily.
In fact, around this time 30 years ago, on January 17th, 1994, when I was 28, I was covering the Housewares Show in Chicago during one of that city’s coldest days on record; it was -28 degrees Fahrenheit, -70 with the wind chill. If you went outside for one minute, your eyelashes and nostrils froze. That same day, there was a massive earthquake in Los Angeles. Watching the news while running on a treadmill in my hotel I thought, Clearly the world is ending, and it is too late for me to ever become a real writer, for non business-to-business publications.
Spoiler alert! The world did not end in 1994. (Another possible open thread topic for another time: When in the past did you believe the world was ending?) And I’ve since become something in the ballpark of “a real writer.”
But in several ways, at that time I felt as if I was having a “quarter-life crisis,” and racing against time. The year before, I’d left my first marriage. I didn’t yet know myself well enough to realize I didn’t want kids, and I was concerned I wouldn’t meet a solid life partner before my youthful looks and fertility ran out. Men I dated were worried about that, too—more than one admitted he didn’t date women over 27 because he was concerned they were in a rush to settle down, get married and have kids. Those men didn’t want to waste my precious, waning time.
It reminded me of what my maternal grandfather’s second wife would answer when anyone asked her age: “plenty-nine,” because 29 was the last age at which a woman was considered “young” and marriageable in her day.
When I was 29, I was as anxious about turning 30 as I am now about turning 60 in 2025. Turning 30, and what it “meant” in terms of heralding a new, more serious phase of adulthood, was so anxiety-provoking, I threw myself three birthday parties that year to distract myself from the import of it.
Oh, did I go through a “quarter-life crisis”! I was probably I was in my late 20s when I first read an article on that rite of passage. Someone probably sent it to me (by snail mail, or maybe fax) because they saw me having one.
Okay, your turn. What did you worry about in your mid- to late-20s? Did you have a “quarter-life crisis”? If you’re in your mid- to late-20s now, are you having one? Are you anxious about getting older and what it means?
Tell us in the comments…
-Sari
It was the 60's and while working full time I was worried about paying the rent and putting food on the table. Surprised? I was also worried about getting pregnant because contraception was not legal, nor was abortion. I could not afford college, not even night school so there was no consideration of a career. As a woman I was paid half of what the men were paid doing the same job. Vietnam was front and center as were the deaths of JKF, MLK, and RFK. Our world was a mess and hope was being assassinated. 29 loomed and the prevailing thought of the time was that everything ended at 30. Now I am 80 years old and have survived all the things I feared and many I never thought of. I am in the process of discovering who I really am and how I want to spend my remaining years.
70 here. Thinking I'm finally old enough to have a quarter-life crisis. That's not because I'm feeling perpetually young; it's because I'm at a stage of acute awareness -- awareness of the mental, emotional, physical, spiritual parts of me.
My 20s were depressingly sad years. A young mother of two, living with a gaslighting, controlling husband who preferred I stay home, not drive, and especially not look at another man. Ever. It was the 70s. I'm a product of the 50s -- not much encouragement to "become" much more than a housewife. Anxiety filled my days. Fear and insecurity haunted my nights. Being told I was never pretty enough or skinny enough led to more insecurity. It wasn't until I was 27 that I left my immature husband and began the long journey of becoming.
If I could say anything to that young 20-something pretty, smart, intuitive girl, it would be, "You are enough. You were always enough."