Turning 24 and Approaching My Quarter-Life Crisis (Oh Wait, That’s Already Happened!)
I just turned 24, and some people have already started saying, “Wow, you’re going to have a quarter-life crisis soon!”
I just respond to that with a grin.
If I’m in the mood to reply, I usually retort, “Oh, that’s already happened. My quarter-life crisis was when I was 15 because I can only manage to live until 60.”
That statement I usually throw out as a joke is partly true, partly in jest. It’s a jest because, come on, we Asian women will live forever or as long as we want! Currently, both of my Sumatran grandmothers — from my mom and dad — are still thriving at the ages of 76 and 78.
However, the more serious part of my comment refers to the quarter-life crisis I’ve genuinely felt for a long time. Essentially, a quarter-life crisis is a period of uncertainty and questioning that often occurs when individuals feel trapped, uninspired, or disillusioned. One of the biggest challenges of this crisis is that those going through it might feel guilty for struggling during what’s supposed to be a fun and relatively easy time in their lives. Consequently, they — or those around them — might downplay the problems they’re facing.
I’ve been grappling with these feelings for a long time, so the idea of facing a quarter-life crisis now seems a bit belated. Instead of dwelling on what happened over the past ten years, turning 24 has prompted me to reflect on how these turbulent experiences have sculpted the person I am today.
Throughout my journey, I’ve encountered numerous moments where the path was anything but clear. Often, I had to learn the hard way, through setbacks that seemed like failures at the time but were invaluable lessons in disguise. Life has its own curriculum, delivering lessons most effectively when they are least expected and often when they are most challenging.
Frustration was a frequent companion during these formative years. It crept in during endless nights of soul-searching, during days spent wrestling with expectations — both mine and those projected by others. There were phases when nothing seemed to align with my passions or hopes, where every decision felt heavier, burdened by the looming question of “What if I’m wrong?”
This uncertainty often spiraled into confusion, leaving me feeling lost and adrift, struggling to reconcile my dreams with reality. In these moments of deep frustration and disorientation, I questioned everything. My choices, my direction, even the very aspects of life that I once took for granted seemed to be on shaky ground.
The societal pressure to figure it all out, to align with a blueprint of success that typically involves graduating and getting married right after, was overwhelming. I often found myself hurting, not just emotionally but impacting those around me with my restless pursuit of purpose.
These periods of struggle appear as necessary detours, crafting resilience and a clearer sense of self. Each stumbling block, each moment of doubt and confusion, though painful at the time, was crucial in forging the path forward. They taught me to manage through the fog of uncertainty, to find my footing, and to build a foundation that now feels authentically mine.
Reflecting on my own life as I celebrate my 24th solar return, I realize there are several foundational experiences that have enriched my view of life. At the core, my personal and professional development has been greatly influenced by my educational choices — deciding which schools to attend, what subjects to study. These decisions have opened new perspectives and opportunities for me.
Surrounding myself with art throughout my life has also deepened my understanding and expression, allowing me to see the world in my own unique ways. This is certainly complemented by my decision to engage in martial arts ever since I was a child, up until last year (which I will, of course, resume soon!).
And then there’s the whole thing about people — figuring out who to keep and who to let go. It’s something I’ve had to learn the hard way. You can’t just sit around and wait to see who might pick you; most of the times you have to pick your people.
But it’s a tricky balance, right? While I’m over here picking and choosing, I’ve also got to stay open to the unexpected — those chance encounters with souls who just fit, who surprise you and who, sometimes without even trying, change your world a little (or a lot). It’s strange how much the people around you influence how you see yourself — and this made me realize how important it is to get that circle right, the ones who reflect the kind of energy and love you want to put out into the world.
I was guided by luck or fate, following my interest wherever they led. Timing, I’ve come to believe, is everything. The right influences at pivotal moments, an open door when you need it, the right words at the right time — all these have serendipitously converged to craft my path, presenting opportunities just as I was ready to embrace them.
Some people try to force their world into what they want it to be, while others wait for their desires to materialize. I think the ideal approach lies somewhere in between: you need to set things in motion, but then let momentum take its own course.
For me, much of life has been about letting go of the outcome and committing to the slow process; enduring the slog and allowing things to take their natural shape. Though it feels ‘unscientific’ to ‘fall into things’, I’ve come to see the value of randomness and serendipity. Without them, we risk ending up dissatisfied with what we thought we wanted. We’re often terrible at predicting what will make us happy and reluctant to admit when our desires change.
Just two days ago, as I turned 24, I found myself quietly celebrating the subtle complexities of life as my loved ones celebrated the day.
Life, with all its unpredictable changes and surprises, has always been full of revelations for me. I’m not just waiting for better days; I’m in love with the present, where I now see life as an endless series of opportunities to experience wonder, without expecting anything in return.
The significance of sharing becomes clearer — my love, my energy, my enthusiasm, are not meant to be contained but are destined to be spread liberally. I’ve learned that by giving these parts of myself, they don’t deplete but grow, enriching my life and those around me. My heart is open: it gives freely and finds joy in the connection itself, regardless of what comes back.
Looking ahead, I am committed to living freely and loving without reservations. I now understand that everything that’s happened hasn’t been by chance. While I’ve embraced the spontaneity of falling into things, I’ve come to recognize the necessity of guiding these unexpected events with a purposeful resolve.
In the meantime, I’ll keep existing in this role, continually striving for character development that brings the greatest possible good. And if anyone asks about my quarter-life crisis, I’ll tell them it’s being skillfully managed, one surprising revelation at a time.
