I was born in 1977, right in the heart of Generation X. For much of my life, I didn’t think much about labels like that. But as I’ve moved through different countries and cultures—from Switzerland to the Netherlands, and now Japan—I’ve started to notice how our birth years shape not only our opportunities, but also the silent expectations we carry.

In Switzerland, growing up Gen X meant learning to be independent. We were the in-between generation—not quite analog, not quite digital. We played outside without smartphones, but adapted quickly to the internet when it arrived. We didn’t have everything figured out, but we were allowed to try things, fail, and pivot.

Here in Japan, I’ve met people my age whose lives have unfolded very differently. They belong to what is often called Japan’s “Lost Generation”—those who came of age during the economic crash of the 1990s and the so-called employment ice age. While I was starting to test different paths in life, many of them were watching opportunities disappear. Job security slipped away, but the pressure to conform remained. For some, that has led to decades of underemployment, social withdrawal, or just a lingering sense that they missed a train they were told to board.

The more I understand this part of Japan’s social fabric, the more I feel the need to listen deeply. The Lost Generation isn’t some distant concept—they are my neighbors, the people I see in cafes, and sometimes the ones who nod quietly when I talk about uncertainty. There’s a quiet strength in them, often overlooked.

I don’t claim to fully understand their experience. I came from a different system, a different set of expectations. But what I do recognize is this: the resilience of the human spirit is not bound by nationality or generational labels. Whether you grew up in Switzerland or Japan, in a time of boom or bust, we all carry the same capacity to start over, to redefine, and to build something meaningful.

If anything, being Gen X has taught me that life rarely goes in a straight line. And maybe that’s the connection I feel with Japan’s Lost Generation: not a comparison of who had it better, but a shared understanding that paths change, and that there’s no deadline for growth.

We are not lost. We are still becoming. And that, to me, is a powerful place to be.

Written with deep respect for all who carry silent burdens and still choose to show up, rebuild, and quietly inspire others along the way.