Rethinking Fulfilment: Navigating the Quarter-Life Questions

A psychologist once spent ages trying to convince me that the so-called quarter-life crisis is nothing more than a myth. At first, I pushed back hard against this idea, because it felt like a dismissal of the very real challenges so many of us face in our twenties. But over time, I began to see another perspective: denying its existence often seems like a way for people to make you question your own sense of direction—sometimes to reassure themselves, other times because there’s profit in it. Just look at the endless self-help books and seminars aimed at young adults, all promising fixes for the quarter-life crisis and selling pricey solutions that rarely get to the heart of what’s actually troubling us.

While I remain sceptical about whether the quarter-life crisis is real, I can’t help but wrestle with what it means to feel genuinely fulfilled. Is satisfaction in life really about making one dramatic change, or is it a more layered journey? I often convince myself that one day everything will fall into place—that I’ll finally settle into a perfect routine and always feel content. Yet, the reality is far more complicated and nuanced, filled with confusing moments and unexpected setbacks.

For years, I firmly believed that landing a secure job would be the answer—that it would bring the stability and contentment I craved. When the rush of the main Christmas period hit, work was frenetic and absorbing, leaving little time to dwell on anything deeper. But once the pace slowed down in the new year and the office grew quiet, I found myself with more time than usual to reflect. It was during those quieter days that I realised I actually don’t enjoy my job. The stillness made space for questions I’d been avoiding: is this really what I want, or am I just going through the motions?

These doubts became more urgent as I started reflecting on my career path. I’ve been in my current role for less than a year, and the thought of leaving so soon fills me with anxiety. I worry about what potential employers will think when they see a short stint on my resume—will they perceive me as unreliable or indecisive, someone who can’t commit? I picture myself sitting in interviews, awkwardly explaining why I’m searching for something new, fearing that my honesty might only make things worse. The anxiety sometimes keeps me up at night, replaying scenarios and second-guessing my choices.

What really gets to me is that, despite having a stable position, the job itself doesn’t feel meaningful. There’s a lack of challenge and growth, and I often catch myself just going through the motions. One afternoon, after a routine meeting, I realised I’d spent the entire week inputting data into spreadsheets—work that felt tedious and disconnected from my strengths or interests. It struck me that simply being employed is not enough if the work does not connect with your values or ambitions. There was another moment when my manager asked me to help organise a staff lunch—something so far removed from the tasks I find engaging that I felt deflated for the rest of the day.

To tackle these feelings, I’ve been exploring different approaches. Recently, I sought out a mentor at work—a colleague who’d been through several changes herself. Over a relaxed coffee break in the office kitchen, she shared the story of how she pivoted from sales to project management, describing the doubts and excitement she felt along the way. She encouraged me to reflect on what genuinely excites me, rather than what I think I should enjoy. That conversation helped clarify some of my goals and reminded me that it’s okay to seek new directions. I’ve started listing my strengths and interests, jotting them down in a notebook, and I’m seriously considering an honest chat with my manager about opportunities for professional development. These steps feel like small but meaningful moves towards better understanding what I want and need.

The journey to fulfilment is ongoing and rarely straightforward. While the quarter-life crisis might be overhyped, the questions it raises about satisfaction and purpose are worth considering. I try to approach these reflections with an open mind, knowing that personal growth often comes from questioning and exploring, rather than quick fixes. Sharing these experiences is my way of encouraging others to reflect on their own paths, without feeling judged or pressured—because figuring out what matters most is a journey unique to each of us.