Surviving a quarter-life crisis
I was doing my dream job, in my dream city, with the man I loved beside me. So why did I feel so miserable?
Exclusive | 3 min read
Holding the letter in my shaking hands, the blood began to roar in my ears. It was April 2019 and as I stood outside my office in London, an all too familiar wave of anxiety washed over me.
After weeks of rumours, I was one of the unfortunate writers being made redundant from my dream job in magazine publishing.
Sunrise from the top of Primrose Hill, overlooking the distinctive London skyline in silhouette. Photo: Punteha van Terheyden/Lacuna Voices
The job I’d uprooted my life from the north coast of Ireland with my boyfriend, Kristian, and our two cats for just 10 months earlier.
Knowing I was about to lose it was devastating. And it was in that moment, at just 24-years old, I reached the peak of what I now realise was a quarter-life crisis.
When you think ‘life crisis’, you might picture the stereotypical victim: a 50-something man who ditches his reliable Saab for a red two-seater sports car, and his long-suffering wife for a younger model.
Common themes
But that’s the cliché. The reality is that the life crisis has evolved, developed, presenting ever earlier because of the very nature of our digital world and all the saturated stresses that come with it.
God only knows what the stats will look like after the pandemic begins to lift, but a study last year revealed 60 per cent of men and women aged 25 to 35 were suffering a quarter-life crisis, with young people crumbling under the pressure of securing the right job, earning enough money and finding the right partner, whilst a general sense of unease in all areas of life was leading sufferers to question their very existence.
In the months leading up to my redundancy, I’d checked off everything on that list, with a touch of imposter syndrome thrown in for good measure.
Dream job
From a young age, I’d dreamt of moving to London to launch a high-flying career in journalism. When I’d landed a staff writer job at a top magazine publisher, I couldn’t believe it. How had I managed it?
But the shine fell away quickly.
The reality was vastly different to the journalist dream I’d conjured up in my girlhood. I was supposed to be living my ‘best life’ but instead, I felt stressed and pressurised on a daily basis.
Failing to manage a good work-life balance, commuting over two hours a day and struggling with my finances, I was on a direct line to burnt out.
Niamh, left, and friends who'd come to London (skyline seen in background) to visit her. Photo: Niamh Burns/Lacuna Voices
Luckily, I’d made friends through work and knowing I had support from people who understood what I was going through helped, but I couldn’t shake off an overwhelming sense of unease.
I began to feel anxious at work and worried if the fast-paced nature of life in London was really for me.
My scrutiny turned inwards and I questioned every decision I’d made up to that point. Should I have moved to London? Had I been naive? Wouldn’t it have been better if I’d travelled the world before being tied down to a job?
downward spiral
Inevitably, my mental health took a hit, especially at work where I started feeling overwhelmed in stressful situations that I could previously manage. I relied on Kristian for support, going over my anxieties with him and constantly seeking his reassurance.
In the early days of our move to London, we did everything together, navigating our new lives, exploring London, socialising and completing our never-ending list of life-admin.
But around the three-month mark, I realised I wasn’t enjoying my new life as much as I’d hoped I would. Before, I’d pictured my life in London as exciting and cosmopolitan: shopping in Covent Garden, walking through Hampstead Heath and going for brunch with friends Sex and the City style.
However, the reality of the city was stark. I missed the open green spaces and wild coastline I’d grown up around and loathed the impoliteness of miserable commuters buried in their phones.
Struggling to pay our bills, feeling homesick and overwhelmed, it felt like work had taken over, its tentacles reaching every corner of my life.
But believing putting my career first was part and parcel of London life, I tried to get on with it. Isn’t this just what everybody did?
Missing home
The heavy workload and financial strain felt a world away from our relatively simple life back in Ireland and I found my anxiety bubbling up.
I lashed out at Kristian and we argued over silly, mundane things. After three happy years together, we were suddenly coming apart at the seams. Our spiralling dynamic wasn’t us at all, and with Kristian unhappy too, we found ourselves in a rut, constantly comparing our old life with this new one.
My self-confidence took a huge knock. Gone was my outgoing personality as I shied away from social events, becoming paranoid about what people thought of me and preferring to stay at home with my cats.
I had become another cliché – the Cat Lady.
Pastel coloured houses on the water in Malcesine, Lake Garda where Niamh and Kristian took pause and reflected on their situation. Photo: Niamh Burns/Lacuna Voices
In September 2018, Kristian and I took a much needed break to Lake Garda, Italy, and it turned out to be just what we needed. Away from all the things making us miserable, we lounged by the pool, unwinding like coils that had been curled up too tight.
We gave ourselves the deadline of Christmas to decide our next steps.
seeking help
But when we returned home and settled back into work, it was as if we had never been away. My anxiety was out of hand and my GP recommended counselling, as well as regular exercise.
I made a conscious effort to work out more, as well as practising yoga and meditation at home.
I also broke the self-imposed silence and confided in my family and friends about what I was going through, speaking to my sister Sinead, 29, most days.
It was difficult being honest and a blow to the ego admitting I wasn’t living my dream, contrary to what my Instagram feed displayed. They were, of course, supportive, which surprised me – and that surprise in itself showed how far I’d lost my sense of self, who I was and where I came from.
Why had I let the self-doubt and pride cripple me to the point of isolation? Confiding in my family and seeing them rally round started a positive chain reaction as I began opening up to friends too.
I was relieved when one admitted she felt the same. I felt bad for her, but it was good to know I wasn’t alone in feeling conflicted over my life choices.
not alone
The more people I opened up to, the more startled I was by how many felt the same way I did.
Then, in April 2019 when my redundancy was announced, I was forced to admit that I was going through a quarter-life crisis, a phrase I’d first heard on Twitter.
It made Kristian and me realise our life in London was driving us into despair, so we called time on it and moved back to Northern Ireland.
Even though it was hard leaving my new work friends behind, my redundancy turned out to be a positive turning point for us.
Luckily, Kristian and I found similar jobs in Belfast when we moved back in June 2019. We settled back home nicely, feeling the happiest and most content we had for a long time, with our families near enough to see whenever we wanted.
Instead of feeling in constant flux over my life and being deeply unhappy, I finally felt back on track. I’m still following the career I love but the difference is here, I have a healthier work-life balance and my support network nearby.
Double whammy
As the new year beckoned, I was optimistic for what 2020 would bring.
I’d just started a great new job as a communications officer on 2nd March when the Covid-19 pandemic hit. By the end of that month, I’d been made redundant for the second time in less than a year.
I wasn’t able to benefit from the government’s furloughing scheme - missing the minimum employment period by just four days. I was one of the unlucky people who’d fallen through the cracks and wasn’t covered by any of the Government’s measures to help people financially during the pandemic.
I’d lost my job as quickly as I’d started it and in the dark days that followed, I wallowed, dreading the thought of finding another job in the midst of a global pandemic.
But surviving a quarter-life crisis has taught me even in this time of coronavirus - losing your job doesn’t have to be the end of your world. If anything, my crisis ultimately improved my life, pushing me to make a decision I might not otherwise have admitted needed to be made.
looking forward
Now, I’m back on the job hunt and I remain optimistic things will work out just as they did last time.
If you’re worrying you’ve made the wrong decisions and questioning what really makes you happy – or what you really want – know that you are not alone.
Don't be afraid to reach out and ask for help from your support network. That’s what friends and family are there for.
And in the darkest moments, remember nobody expects you to have every element of your life perfectly mapped out. Life will test you, and what may seem like your worst decision, could very well lead you to exactly what you need the most.
Expert tips
Psychologist Dennis Relojo-Howell, mental health blogger and founder of Psychreg, offers his advice for surviving a quarter-life crisis.
‘Just like any major life event, going through a quarter-life crisis can be extremely stressful. It’s important to acknowledge this, especially if you’ve made some life choices you’re not happy about.
Remember: you can still change things in your life. One of the greatest things you can do while you're going through this phase is to visualise your future self and work on your long-term aspirations.
Top tips
• Stop comparing your life with others. Focus on yourself and recognise everyone has their own pace in life.
• Talk about your feelings. Speaking openly about your crisis will help make it feel more manageable.
• Take up a new hobby. Starting that language course you’ve been putting off will help you find a new sense of purpose.
• Know that everything happens for a reason. No matter how testing something feels, realise it’s all part of life’s journey.
Photo courtesy of Psychreg.
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