In 2020, the Norwegian film The Worst Person In The World became an unexpected cult hit among a generation of millennial women. Evidently, the story of a woman on the brink of turning 30 and trying to figure out who she should date, what she should do and where she should live spoke to us.

For me, one scene in particular hit home. On her 30th birthday, Julie (Renate Reinsve) spirals into a panic. Looking around the table, she sees her mother and her grandmother. Then, her eyes drift to the framed photos on the wall – her great-grandmother, then her great-great-grandmother come into view. The narrator explains how in each generation that came before, Julie’s predecessors had careers, partners and children by the time they reached 30; for Julie, however, everything is still up in the air. A unique panic sets in that we now know as the tri-life crisis.

Watching this scene was like watching some of my most anxiety-ridden inner thoughts playing out for all to see on the big screen. My own 30th birthday, which took place earlier this year, arrived as an ominous reminder of my slow, meandering progress in life. Like Julie, I couldn’t help but compare myself to my family. My mother was already pregnant with me when she turned 30 – my grandmother had already had three kids.

In my experience, most of us view life as a line stretching out before us. We move along it collecting little gold stars on the way. A degree here, a job there, maybe a partner a little further along. I had always imagined that those things would be sitting at the appropriate spot on the path in front of me, just waiting for me to collect them, adding them to my identity like building blocks, before moving happily on my way to the next thing.

After all, when I looked at the paths of everyone around me – my mother, my grandmothers and even my childhood friends – these little collectable identity-building milestones seemed to appear on their paths with total reliability. At 25, the partner. At 30, the first child. And so on and so on. 

Herein lies one of the core problems of the millennial condition: after growing up with an ingrained idea of the ready-made, dependable timeline stretching out in front of us, we were wholly unprepared for the reality of life for so many in the 21st century. We arrived at each checkpoint and expected to find a job or a partner waiting for us. But they weren’t there. 

New research by Stylist, powered by our new insight agency Think Stylist, found that 75% of 30-year-olds hoped to be financially comfortable by this age, and yet only 22% are. Career-wise, 69% hoped to have a job they love by now and only 28% do. The same pattern is true for marriage – 68% expected to be engaged or married, only 41% are – and home ownership – 75% of the women we spoke to hoped to own their own home, but only 34% do.

A lot has shifted. Young women today are increasingly embracing non-linear careers. Some take the plunge into uncertain fields, daring to spend time pursuing passion rather than reliable, steady career progression. In turn, traditional milestones like marriage and children have, for many, been knocked off-kilter and out of place. Added to this, we’ve had a global pandemic that has effectively frozen our progression for two and a half years. 

The nature of life’s timeline has changed, but our expectations – and the expectations of those around us – haven’t.

Perhaps the real problem isn’t how our timelines have changed; instead, it’s the fact that I have been thinking of life as a line in the first place.

In one of the most talked about scenes in The Worst Person In The World, Julie has a sudden, almost spiritual revelation – that her life with her current partner, Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie), is somehow wrong – that there is someone else she should be with. Time literally stands still around her as she runs to be by his side. In a film about the constant, unstoppable march of time, and Julie’s inability to ‘keep up’ with it, it’s a beautiful moment that hinges on pure emotional elation and clarity of purpose.

It offers a momentary glimpse at another way of looking at life. What if we thought of life not as a linear series of checkpoints and milestones, but rather as a collection of beautiful moments? What if we lived with complete dedication to and faith in the present and celebrated our successes and moments of happiness whenever they happened to come for us as individuals?

It’s much easier said than done, of course, and it’s probably impractical to completely forget the linear passage of time – it’s important to make plans, set goals and think of the future. However, it is a reassuring reminder that by reframing our conception of the timeline of life, we might be able to let go of that milestone-laden path and embrace a new relationship with time and with success altogether.

This article is part of Generation Tick Tock, a series exploring our complex relationship with time. You can read the full series here. 

Images: Mubi