The data says I'm at the peak of unhappiness, and I couldn't be happier

Research suggests that people are the most unhappy at the age of 47.2 -- exactly how old I am today – before hitting a decades-long upswing.

Earlier this week, I sent my wife a screenshot of a social media invitation I had come across by chance.

“Mark your calendar. Class of 1994, 30-Year Reunion: Aug. 9-11, 2024. More details to come!”

I added my own mock editorializing in my message to her: “Just saw this. #old.”

We had already been in the middle of a text chain about a whole gamut of life stresses. Big-picture stuff like the threat of gun violence. Medium-level stuff like our daughter had just been sent home sick from school. Gross but relatively small stuff like the dog had thrown up but seemed OK otherwise.

It was somehow only 11 a.m.

This is what it’s like to be a middle-aged parent with young kids, generally: Past your physical and mental prime, navigating an increasingly fraught and fast-paced world, putting out a never-ending stream of small fires, holding it all together, sinking into this reality.

Also: Being constantly presented irrefutable information that you are getting older, like a cheerful reminder of a 30-year — 30! — high school reunion, or listening to your 7-year-old daughter playfully remind you almost daily, “Dad, when I’m 10 you’re going to be 50.”

And: Making peace with it. Maybe loving it?

It’s hard until it’s not. It takes some reframing. It takes a little of the Fight Club spirit. The scene where Brad Pitt screams at Edward Norton, “Stop trying to control everything and just let go!”

But you don’t need to crash the car like they (he) did. You just need to understand what is happening.

Want some wonderful data that helps? I’m a sucker for numbers. I was a “mathlete” growing up, and my parents were convinced I would do something in a numbers field until letters became more interesting. But I still love numbers — and more than ever, data that paints a compelling picture.

A huge research study concluded that in developed countries, people start having decreasing levels of happiness starting at age 18. It continues in their 20s and 30s before reaching an unhappiness peak — or bottoming out, if you prefer — at the precise age of 47.2.

That’s exactly how old I am today.

I did the math as soon as I read that linked article a few months ago, and figured out that Jan. 12, 2024 is when I turned 47.2.

Maybe I’m an overachiever. I think my unhappiness peaked around 45.5.

Then again, it’s important to remember these are just averages. COVID certainly accelerated my process. Someone else would have needed to peak around 49 to average me out.

The age itself probably isn’t important unless you are — like me — exactly 47.2 today, scientifically proven to be on the upswing.

Then again, it’s even more important to understand why so many people become unhappy. Regardless of external factors that seem like they should make an impact like money, education and jobs, the distinct happiness/unhappiness curve stays true, according to the study.

Scouring the linked article, which nicely distills the research from Dartmouth professor David Blanchflower, some theories really resonate:

1. The idea that we have hopes and dreams when we are young, many of which are either dashed quickly or morph into bland compromises as the reality of young adulthood and middle age calcify around us.

2. The notion that we tend to tie our happiness to relative measures at younger ages, making comparisons to other people instead of just living our lives. But thankfully — SARCASM FONT — the era of social media has made it nearly impossible to compare ourselves to other people, so this reason should be going away.

All of that, combined with the stress of a life often wrapped up in caregiving — young, old or both — hits hardest when you are, on average, 47.2.

But then something magical happens. Or, maybe more accurately, we slowly start to shed that unhappiness and despair. And we get happier – or at least less unhappy, which might not be the same exact thing but is a comforting proxy — for decades and decades. (The graph stops at age 80, but I’m not going to worry about that right now).

Like I said, I think I hit that unhappiness peak about 18 months ago. Not that every day up to that moment was bad or every day since then was great. That’s not the point. It’s a general feeling more than a constant comparison.

I vividly remember telling my wife with great frustration, as we celebrated our 15^th wedding anniversary in June 2022, that I felt like I had lost touch with my identity. “I don’t even know what I like anymore,” I confessed.

Some of that was the pandemic haze, which we were just sort of starting to come out of — myself much more slowly than others. Some of it was I was frustrated that I wasn’t able to write creatively. Aging felt decidedly uncool.

But over time, I slowly came to realize that I didn’t know who I was anymore because … I wasn’t who I used to be.

And that was OK.

Sure, certain core elements of my personality and my belief system were unchanged and perhaps will never change. But I didn’t have to keep battling to retain my past self. What I needed to do was grow comfortable and understand my present self.

Stop trying to control everything and just let go.

A phrase and idea that kept creeping into my head as I pondered this piece over the past week is this: I’ve stopped trying to impress everybody, but I haven’t stopped trying.

I still care deeply about the things I’m working on, my family, friends, countless other things. But when you stop trying to make it seem impressive, you can shed the performative nature of it. It can be much more authentic and honest.

Is that what it means to get comfortable with the age you are, no matter what it is? To become more mature? Should we envy those who figure it out much earlier and pity those who never do? I don’t know.

But I know this: It sure feels good right now.