Child of the '80s

If you were born in the 1980s, you'd be in your mid to late 20s by now (or even your early 30s). And perhaps like many 20-somethings, you're now going through what people call the 'quarter-life' (it's like midlife crisis but around two decades earlier). You look at yourself in the mirror and evaluate what you've accomplished so far since graduation and you may feel disappointed, like you've fallen short of your own expectations.

You know this stage is crucial, it's make or break. But you feel lost and uncertain. Like the song says in the opening credits of FRIENDS, your favorite sitcom: “Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA.” Still no dream house, no dream car, no family. You haven't seen the world yet as you thought you would soon after school. No fame, no fortune. Different issues for everyone. 

Facebook heightens the anxiety by showcasing what others your age (your classmates and batch mates) already have—a stark reminder of what you still don't.

If misery truly loves company, then fret not. It appears the phenomenon of being caught between the grownup world and the not-quite-grownup world is widespread, it's pandemic. A few years back, The New Yorker featured the zeitgeist on its cover, picture it: a 20-something, overqualified for a job, returns to his parents' home and hangs his PhD diploma in his childhood bedroom. His parents look on, obviously worried, confused, wondering what went wrong.

Several decades ago, women and men belonging to this age group were already gainfully employed, owned a house, were starting to a family. New industries and the dotcom age have given birth to a two-faced, double-edged scenario: 1) many pursue further studies to prepare themselves for the rigors and demands of ever-advancing technology, while some, as a result, end up overqualified for entry-level jobs; 2) empowered women have started making important decisions vis-à-vis their careers and bodies that ultimately delay (or exclude altogether) the prospects for marriage and/or children.

It's said to be an epiphenomenon brought about by cross-cultural and fluctuating economic influences. For some experts, this points to the dawning of a new life stage. Jeffrey Arnett, a psychology professor at Clark University, posits: 'view the 20s as a distinct life stage,' one he calls "emerging adulthood." It's supposed to be analogous to adolescence which, a hundred years back, was also seen as an emerging life stage brought about by the rapid economic and cultural expansion that marked the turn of the century. Whether this apparent delay in adulthood would do more good in the long run (…fine wine is aged, anything worth something takes time to perfect…) or not remains to be seen. 

On the other hand, the socio-economic factors that give rise to this possible new life stage cover a wide gamut of issues distinct to the 21st century: dotcom industries, technology, an information-based economy, fewer entry-level jobs, the drawbacks of economic integration in a globalized world (domino effect when a market comes crashing), online distractions, shifting mindsets on marriage or empowered women who make their own choices, et. al.

There is a raging debate amongst psychologists and sociologist on accepting emerging adulthood as a new life stage, and much has yet to be threshed as there are serious and broad shifts in policy that need to be made with its resolution—much like how public and private institutions, education, healthcare services had to accommodate adolescence as a new life stage a century ago.

I would always say: “I will be forever young.” Now I'm 30 years old, my words are, for better or for worse, a self-fulfilling prophecy. And like many children of the '80s, I am clueless as to what the future holds. In college, I was pretty certain; I was a man with a plan: in my 20s I shall invade the world of government, media, and the private sector. Each entry in my bucket list, crossed out. What now? For the first time, I am at a loss as to what I want to do. I have no plan. Enter quarter-life.

My dear friend Emil Layacan (now 31, New York-based, and successful by any standard) asked me a few months ago, as I was approaching my thirtieth, what I wanted to do after experiencing three sectors I've always wanted to try, where I wanted to focus. I had no answer. Though my bucket list was rather unconventional (not the usual jobs, dream house, car, family), it is obvious that I am not immune to this quarter-life phenomenon.

How am I handling it? Well, here's a trick that might work for you. The week before I turned thirty, I made a serious pilgrimage into my past (it doesn't have to be right before you turn thirty, I'm just a little more sentimental and ritualistic than usual… or sane). Joined by my parents, I went back to the small apartment they rented in Manila when they were still starting out; located at a street called San Joaquin, it's where we lived before we moved to my grandfather's estate here in Cebu. I saw the house, the neighborhood, the kapilya where I first heard Simbang Gabi, my pediatrician's clinic.

So what's the point? When we're lost, it might help to have a conversation with the children we once were. Revisit our dreams, hopes, aspirations, our values as a child. Our childhood was a time when everything was possible: we believed in magic, that our toys were alive, or that dinosaur bones could be found buried in our backyard. We looked at the stars and we dreamed of galaxies faraway, of spaceships and Jedi knights. We were sure to see the world someday, and the more ambitious among us were determined to change it for the better.

You might find yourself to be a very different person from 1980s you, and be disappointed more to find that you've compromised a lot along the way, but I doubt your past self would be too harsh on you and judge you. He/she might even appreciate the visit.

Smack in the middle of the quarter-life (or emerging adulthood, or what have you), I still don't know where I am or where I want to be, but the point of the whole exercise is in finding our core. Because the road ahead will be fraught with more twists and turns, but our core, like a compass, it will guide us and give us balance.

So child of the '80s, carry on!