Today, I’m 30. Coming to terms with this reality has involved staring at my reflection for too long, wandering through empty parks with my hands clasped behind my back, and attempting to relive my college days with a night out in North Beach, where I tried to drink like I used to. This morning, nursing a hangover that made it clear I can’t party like I once did, I wandered through my living room, gazing out the open window, pondering what I’ve truly learned. Am I on the right path? Am I a failure?
I stood there in my boxers for what felt like an eternity, squinting and scratching my chin, oblivious to the cool breeze, likely alarming anyone who happened to pass by.
Now, I might have a flair for the dramatic, but I’m not alone in this experience of turning 30. Research from New York University’s Stern School of Business and the University of California’s Anderson School of Management suggests that hitting this milestone often prompts people to “audit the meaningfulness of their lives.” They argue that entering a new decade serves as a significant boundary between life stages, marking our progress through the years.
In simpler terms, being 29 and still figuring things out is acceptable—at 29, you’re practically still a kid! But turning 30 and not having a path you’re proud of feels like a waste of potential, with only disappointment and decline ahead.
“Thirty,” as F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in The Great Gatsby, promises “a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair.”
Or so we fear. This is one reason we engage in self-reflection—to reassure ourselves amidst existential dread that our lives do have meaning; that we are on some kind of path; that there are still reasons to feel excited; and that we’ve gleaned a few insights about living a productive and meaningful life that might resonate with others.
To validate this notion—and to somewhat quell our quarter-life crises—many of us take to the Internet, crafting lists of the significant lessons we’ve learned over our 30 years on this planet. That’s what I did this morning, after finally tearing myself away from the window. I desperately wanted to affirm my success and legitimacy as an adult, believing that writing might achieve that more effectively than drinking, sulking, or scrutinizing my reflection.
At first, it didn’t go well. The words felt presumptuous, almost disingenuous: attempts at wisdom awkwardly disguised as advice. I realized I don’t have much wisdom to share. I’m a product of privilege, raised by loving parents in a comfortable middle-class suburb that could easily pop up in a Google search. Compared to others, I haven’t faced much hardship. My dad worked tirelessly to pay for his college education, while I was fired from my part-time job at Jamba Juice on my 18th birthday. My manager, aware that I was an English major with a paid tuition, suggested I might just be “subconsciously incompetent” at blending smoothies.
However, as I continued writing, I recognized I was approaching this all wrong; lists like the one that follows offer a subtle, multifaceted value. Fans of self-development appreciate them, even when the author hasn’t exactly earned the wisdom they’re attempting to share. The real benefit lies in the act of writing itself. I’ve come a long way since my brief stint at Jamba Juice. While I’ve learned a few things that might benefit readers—like my younger self, who was ignorant, arrogant, and lazy—taking stock of these lessons helps me live better now. It’s therapeutic, too. I’m no longer gazing out my window like a lonely dog.
I’m beginning to think that the best way to tackle a quarter-life crisis might be to engage in this kind of exercise, even for those who don’t consider themselves writers. Revisiting and sharing the lessons we learn helps preserve them, allowing us to apply them. The purposes vary from living better to finding happiness to disproving the misguided logic of our existential crises. But perhaps we can only truly apply our lessons and ideas for living better—ethereal as they may be—when we articulate them, much like one must chant incantations to conjure magic.
So, consider what follows an attempt not to teach or advise, but rather to catalog the rules and moral compasses I want to follow in my ongoing effort to combat existential anxiety and create a more meaningful life—an effort that, as I now see, has only just begun.
- The people you love are, truly, more important than anything else.
First and foremost, relationships matter. They surpass work, ambitions, and material desires. This is a truth often reiterated on deathbeds. Internalize it and prioritize accordingly. - The goals you desperately want to achieve might not be as life-changing as you think.
So don’t stress when you occasionally fall short. Not landing that job or promotion, or being rejected from those MFA programs—such “failures” often don’t derail you as much as you fear. If you persist, what you end up doing instead can be just as fulfilling. Don’t let disappointment extinguish your drive. - Other people are never thinking about you as much as you think they are.
Worry less. - Read widely.
This not only enlightens you to the fact that many have endured similar failures and anxieties, but it also connects you to the universal longings we all share. As Fitzgerald once said, “That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.” - And see more live music.
It’s easy to take your problems too seriously. Remind yourself of the beautiful aspects of existence, like family (see #1) and live music. You can never see too much live music. - Similarly, it’s never a bad idea to go for a nice walk.
Preferably through nature. It’s therapeutic and beneficial. Many successful people, like Steve Jobs and Charles Dickens, have confessed to being obsessive walkers. - Persistently seek work that gives you purpose.
Purpose is the third rail of the human psyche. It propels us. As Nietzsche said, “He who has a Why can tolerate almost any How.” Finding your Why isn’t easy; it requires strategy, curiosity, bravery, and persistence. You must try various things, fail, work for free, and keep going. My dad didn’t find his calling until he was nearly my age, after exploring different paths. - Once you find that thing you like, strive to excel at it.
Being good at something is gratifying. People will pay you to do what you enjoy and excel at. Identify those who are already skilled in your desired field, study them, and emulate their success. - Aspire to be reliable.
It doesn’t matter how talented you are if people can’t trust you to show up. Be punctual, keep your promises, and avoid being under the influence when it’s inappropriate. - For similar reasons, stay in good shape.
A sound body equals a sound mind. Exercise and healthy eating enhance your well-being, making life more enjoyable. - But also, treat yourself.
Life is less enjoyable if you never indulge. Reflect on what brings you joy and indulge appropriately. - Invest in your mental health.
This requires more than just treating yourself. Acknowledge your struggles with anxiety or depression. Bad feelings fester when ignored. Treat your mind as you would any essential muscle. - Listen to your body.
If you feel anxious after hours of inactivity, it might be time to move. Your body and mind are your soul’s employees; heed their signals. - Practice moderation.
Enjoying life is essential, but too much of a good thing can be detrimental. Find a balance that allows you to enjoy life without overindulging. - Work to be empathetic, patient, and kind.
This is crucial. Being a good person is admirable. Show appreciation for others, help them, and recognize their efforts. - Support artists in any way you can.
This includes giving to street performers and sharing meaningful art. Good art enriches life and is worth investing in. - The main thing that makes life worth living is love.
Spend time with those you cherish. Committing to one person can significantly enhance your life. My relationship with Alex has made my life richer and more meaningful. - Celebrate others whenever you can.
Celebrations punctuate life and make it more enjoyable. Throw parties, toast achievements, and get excited about the little things. - Don’t do dumb things.
Avoid endangering yourself or others. Stay smart, especially when celebrating. - Don’t shy away from trying new, scary things.
Just ensure they’re not dangerously reckless. Expanding your horizons is essential for growth. - Broaden your perspective.
We’re limited to our own viewpoints. Exploring different interpretations can lead to better problem-solving and a more interesting life. - Establish a productive daily routine.
Strategic repetition enhances your skills. I became a better writer by dedicating time to daily writing. - Never stop practicing or striving to improve.
Continuous effort is essential for growth. Stay loyal to your routines and keep pushing yourself. - Remember, you’re always practicing something.
Be mindful of how you spend your time. Strive for self-awareness. - Invest in friends who value continuous growth.
Surrounding yourself with ambitious people makes it easier to maintain your own aspirations. - Be a team player in group settings.
Collaboration is more important than individual pride. Respect your peers and maintain perspective. - Speak and act considerately.
Think before you speak to avoid upsetting those you care about. Our words carry weight. - Apologize when necessary.
If you hurt someone, offer a genuine apology. Acknowledge your mistakes. - Stand up for yourself.
Don’t shy away from advocating for yourself. Be present in uncomfortable conversations. - Finally, remember that these lists serve the author as much as the reader.
They’re not scripture. Take what resonates with you, discard the rest, and perhaps write your own list of rules for living better. If you’re facing an existential crisis—quarter-life or otherwise—this exercise can remind you of what you’re grateful for and what you still need to focus on.
