We Did Everything Right, So Why Are We Stuck?What it feels like to build a life in your twenties without a clear way forward
If there is one word to describe what my generation (the Gen-Zs) are feeling right now, especially in the current political and economic climate, it’s this: trapped. Never have I, as someone in her late twenties, have felt this trapped before. We’re constantly told by motivational speakers, mentors or family members from the older generations, to just “take a leap of faith”, and everything else will eventually fall into place. But is it really that simple? Sometimes I even wonder if they truly remember what it was like in their twenties, or if things really did fall into place so easily for them the moment they decided to “take the risk”. Because here’s the thing: it doesn’t feel like there’s a clear “risk” to take anymore. In their time, working hard often led to something tangible. Effort translated into stability. Climbing the corporate ladder, or any ladder for that matter, wasn’t as precarious as it is now. The steps weren’t steep, slick or unstable. There was a sense of structure. The number of available jobs felt more aligned with the number of people looking for them. And the cost of living wasn’t nearly as suffocating as it is today. And yet, we’re still expected to follow the same blueprint. We’re told to “move abroad,” to “find a job,” to “settle down,” as if these are simple, linear steps that naturally lead to a stable life just because we’ve reached a certain age. But where is the foundation we’re supposed to build on? How are we meant to survive in systems that weren’t designed to support us? What happens when health insurance doesn’t adequately cover the unforeseen complications that come with childbirth? When labor laws don’t fully support working parents? When raising a family on a single income feels nearly impossible? Being a young adult today feels like trying to navigate life through a dense fog without a flashlight.All I have are my hands, reaching out and feeling my way forward, trying to make sense of what’s ahead. Sometimes I’d grasp at something, hoping it might guide me, only for it to slip through my fingers or turn out to be useless in the long run. There’s no middle ground. On rare occasions, I do find something that could help, but even then, it comes with conditions. Like finally finding a flashlight in the thick fog…but without batteries. And then there’s the question of what I actually want. I want to write. More than anything, I want to spend my days in front of my computer, building something out of words. But even that path feels overwhelming now. There are too many directions. From fiction to non-fiction, traditional publishing or self-publishing, content writing or storytelling…and no clear indication of which one I’m supposed to take. That’s the most exhausting part of all. Not just that the part is hard, but that there are too many paths and none of them are coming with a map.
And it’s not just writing. Across industries, it feels like we’re all trying to navigate trenches we were never trained to cross. In corporate spaces, entry-level roles demand years of experience, while offering salaries that barely sustain independence. In creative fields, passion is expected to compensate for instability, exposure instead of income, visibility instead of security. Even in industries that were once considered “safe,” the constant restructuring make stability feel temporary at best. It’s like no matter where you turn, there’s this quiet, underlying pressure to adapt faster. Learn more, become more, without ever being given the time or resources to truly find your footing. And so we learn to move anyway. Carefully, uncertainly.We build skills we’re not sure will matter in five years. We chase opportunities that may or may not last. We try to stay relevant in systems that seem to shift beneath us overnight. It’s not that we’re unwilling to work hard. If anything, we’re working harder than ever. But the ground we’re standing on doesn’t feel solid, and that makes every step forward feel like a risk in itself. Maybe that’s what “trapped” really means for our generation. It’s not the lack of ambition, or courage, or willingness to try. It’s the feeling of being caught between expectation and reality, between being told that everything is possible, while constantly running into systems that make those possibilities harder to reach. We’re not standing still because we’re lazy. We’re pausing, because we’re trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t operate the way we were promised it would. And maybe, that’s enough for now. Personally, I don’t believe that moving slowly, questioning everything, or refusing to blindly follow predetermined paths is a sign of failure. Not as long as we have a destination we hope to reach someday, and the resilience to keep navigating toward it. In a world that no longer guarantees certainty, this may be the only honest way forward. After all, even in the fog, it’s still better to move than to stand still. And that has to count for something. Sincerely, Cherie. The Whiffler is free today. But if you enjoyed this post, you can tell The Whiffler that their writing is valuable by pledging a future subscription. You won't be charged unless they enable payments.
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Wednesday, 25 March 2026
We Did Everything Right, So Why Are We Stuck?
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