It’s not that we don’t know who we are. And it’s not that we don’t know who we want to be. We’re just stuck because this is the first time we’ve never known how we’re going to get there.
In middle school, it’s high school. In high school, it’s college. In college, it’s your first job. There was always a clear next step, and always a clear way to take it. Grades. Applications. Connections. Finite, decisive choices that move life forward. Whether you made them was up to you, but the choices were clear.
Today, they’re not. Even the next step isn’t clear. What comes after first job? New job? Completely different career? Marriage? Family? Let’s say it’s marriage. I still can’t choose to build the happy, healthy relationship to get me there. So even when the next step is clear, the path still isn’t.
It’s like the paved road is only 25 years long. Then it’s dirt. Which is different, but it’s still walkable. Now it’s a mud pit. Am I supposed to jump it? Do I walk around? Or do I hate my shoes enough to tromp through? Worse yet, for the first time, it doesn’t help to weigh someone else’s decision; I might not have the agility, time or outfit to make the same one.
But it’s been two years, and I’ve decided that the only thing worse than taking an insecure step toward an unclear future is not taking a step at all.
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