Cycle Two: Choosing myself is scary. Quarterlifers begin to develop a sense of their own finitude. Their self-awareness takes this shape: “I like choosing who I am and who I want to become, but I’m afraid choice carries with it certain risks. I can do anything that I want, it is true, but what is it I really want to do? The people whose advice I respect sometimes want different goals for me than I do. At times I’m afraid of letting down people whom I respect and love. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but I also want to be independent
and happy with my own choices about how to live, love, and work. But what is it I can do that is worthwhile? Who should I love? When should I make lifelong commitments, if at all? What should I believe? I need mentors and guides I trust and respect, but who should these people be? I know that others are depending on
me to fulfill my promise as an adult, but just what are my duties to myself and my duties to others? What should I do when these duties are in conflict? Is it really possible for me to live a life of personal integrity when every choice I make stands to harm or to help others, and I’ve got to decide whose side I’m on?”
Cycle Three: I’m not really as free to choose as I thought I was. In the third cycle, quarterlifers become far more aware of their own boundedness. They realize that their choices are limited by their external circumstances, their individual temperaments, and other conditions over which they have little control. They still relish the idea of being autonomous agents who are able to construct their own meanings, but now the whole experience takes on a sharper, existential edge. It is more tuned in to the limitations of finite existence and bounded choice-making, as well as to what the Greeks called fortuna (“chance” or “luck”). No longer is the quarterlifer a superman or superwoman.
Happiness is, at best, a fleeting thing, and the months and years are as passing seasons. Now these questions arise: “Is there any enduring meaning in my life? When I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do, will this guarantee that I’ll be in a satisfying relationship and a good job, and enjoying my life? If I’ve worked hard to achieve my goals, will this mean that I’ll finally be happy and fulfilled? I know so many people who, to the outside world, appear to be incredible successes. But they often tell me they feel so unsettled and so restless.
Some of them are even doing selfdestructive things. If all goes well when I graduate, I will still have more than two-thirds of my life to live. But I don’t ever want to be in a state of depression about opportunities lost. Where do I go from here?Will I be able to settle for less than I want, knowing that there are limits on my ambitions?”
Cycle Four: I’m becoming more, not less, cautious in my choices. During this cycle of meaning-making, quarterlifers start to realize that age, events, and added responsibilities are taking hold of them . . . almost by surprise. Often, when we listen to quarterlifers at this time of meaning-making, we are reminded of aWoody Allen line: “I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Their self-talk covers more than just death, of course; it usually takes the following form: “Life is happening to me almost when I’m not even looking, and, lo and behold, I’m getting older.
Who I see in the mirror every morning is not who I used to see. Now what? I’ve still got so much left that I want to do, but I’m realizing that what I want to do might actually take more time than I will actually have. How can I avoid slipping into despair, frustration, and just plain exhaustion?
“Will people still love and respect me, even though I probably won’t be as active a risk-taker as I want to be? In my later years, what in the world will I have in common with people who are younger and more creative and vital than I am?Will I look too eccentric and settled to them, completely out of touch—the way that my parents and teachers look to me now? It won’t be long before I’m out in the world, hustling like everyone else, and I’m really afraid of losing my passion for life. I never want to compromise my integrity, or lose my sense of humor, or give up on my faith that there is some force greater than me in the universe.”
Cycle Five: I will choose my meanings to the best of my ability, and I will try not to live a life of regret or bitterness. In the fifth cycle, meaning-making becomes less concerned with the navel-gazing questions of self and more concerned with developing a generative, outward-facing philosophy. This cycle is less about resignation for quarterlifers than it is about authentic realization both in and out of community. Authenticity is the realization that we are the authors (each word has the same Greek word root—authentes—meaning “one who makes or originates something”) of our own lives. In some ways, this cycle is a restatement of Cycle One, only now it is grounded in a narrative of existential responsibility (response-ability—the ability to respond) to others as well as to self:
“Yes, it is true that I am the author of my own life, but there are limits. There is around me a circle beyond which I cannot pass, but within that circle I have tremendous freedom to make choices; choices that can be as satisfying, exhilarating, and life-expanding as any I’ve ever made. Only now I need to proceed more carefully,
not thinking only of myself but also being willing to respond to the needs of others. I am not a completely free agent, and I recognize now that there is a balance between freedom and responsibility. I live in a complex social network that imposes certain duties and obligations on me. Having said this, however, I also realize that this social network also confers a wonderful sense of freedom. I am not completely alone. I have others on whom I can rely to help me make wise and good choices.”
Read More : Cycles of Quarterlife Meaning-Making
