Historically, happiness in the United States followed a reliable arc—a perfect U-shaped curve. We were happy when we were young and carefree. Not so happy during the pressure-filled midlife years. Then happy again later in life.
Historical happiness chart: U-Shape
But today, happiness is crashing much earlier. And that should worry us. We pushed this generation hard. Relentlessly hard. The script was clear: work hard, get good grades, stay out of trouble, go to a good college, and “all your wildest dreams will come true”. But, I think we both know that’s not true.
Today’s happiness chart: V-Shape
This generation grew up during the most affluent period in human history. More money, better schools, safer neighborhoods, nicer cars, and fancier clothes. Youth sports leagues that required family algorithms to manage the overlapping seasons. Tutors and SAT prep courses replaced after-school jobs. For the truly affluent, college kids enjoyed summers studying & partying abroad in places like Oxford and Cortona.
But, why stock shelves at Target when you should be stacking AP classes, attending travel soccer tournaments, doing SAT prep, and volunteering to impress admissions committees?
Once the training wheels came off, the kids realized just how misleading the dreamy sales pitch had been. The good life, it turns out, is expensive. Crushingly so. The rewards they dreamed of no longer matched the effort required to receive them.
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Here’s the cruel irony: after a lifetime of affluence, having to struggle for the basics after college feels unfair. It’s one thing to climb a mountain you were warned about. It’s quite another to discover the mountain after being told the road ahead would be clear.
Is everything really unaffordable or are the expectations just unrealistic?
It’s extraordinarily hard to go from a life of privilege and comfort—to a life where you have to scrape a little. This generation looks around and concludes that life was easier for everyone else. It wasn’t.
Work hard, get good grades, stay out of trouble, get into a good college, and all your wildest dreams will come true.
Post-college is often an adjustment. Smaller living spaces, more roommates and less disposable income. Reality sinks in. There’s nothing sexy about going to the grocery store, washing your clothes and cleaning toilets for the first time.
Did any of the kids ask their parents who was going to pay off the student loans? How many parents explained that the study-abroad program in Cortona would take the kids 15-20 years to pay off?
Previous generations learned resilience by working in a local fast-food restaurant or a dry-cleaners after school. They learned humility from starting at the bottom and working for a 45 year old guy who still lives at home. They learned that work—especially at the beginning—involves maximum effort for minimal reward. And they met Mr. F.I.C.A. and Mr. F.U.T.A.
The very advantages meant to launch young people into successful adulthood have instead made them unprepared for the friction of a normal life.
It’s extraordinarily hard to go from a life of privilege and comfort—to a life where you have to scrape a little.
Their parents worked hard to provide a comfortable home, annual vacations, and safe SUV’s for carpool. They achieved the good life with years of hard work, grit and thick skin. Things the kids never noticed in between travel soccer and studying abroad in Cortona.
The result is a generation meticulously prepared for entering college but totally underprepared for exiting college. Unprepared for an ordinary life. As if the college admissions officials were the gatekeepers to six-figure salaries and immediate promotions. They weren’t.
When you grow up living the good life, an ordinary life feels unfair. A fixer-upper isn’t a starting point—it’s failure. A higher mileage used car isn’t practical—it’s embarrassing. An entry-level salary isn’t a beginning—it’s a disappointment. That’s the insidious power of affluence: it redefines abundance as the bare minimum and anything else as inadequate.
The very advantages meant to launch young people into successful adulthood have instead made them unprepared for the friction of life.
When your identity is built around achievement and you’ve been told achievement guarantees success, falling short of your parents lifestyle feels like failure.
When your parents are living the good life, an ordinary life feels like deprivation.
Social media only sharpens the knife. Everyone else appears to be getting promoted, traveling abroad, marrying and buying homes—even if it’s all propped up by debt or quiet parental support.
But there is good news. Friction in life isn’t the enemy. It’s the catalyst. It’s rocket fuel for success. That friction is leading young adults to ask better questions about what actually constitutes a good life.
A meaningful life was never about accumulating symbols of status. A meaningful life comes from faith, family, friendship and work that serves others. From people and places and purpose. That kind of wisdom typically takes fifty years to develop, but the kids might be learning that lesson early.
It’s not that this generation is lazy. It’s that theIr expectations were completely unrealistic.
Maybe the steepening of the happiness curve is just a recalibration. Fewer car purchases may signal a growing appreciation for the crippling impact of debt. Delaying home purchases may allow for more mobility. And learning to scrape a little is good for the soul. There is always wisdom in the struggle.
The challenge is in surviving the transition. This generation needs time and grace to grieve the unrealistic future they anticipated. They need to define success differently. To measure wealth in relationships instead of trappings. In meaning rather than material accumulation. And in the realization that happiness isn’t found in Cortona—or in granite countertops.
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