I’m 38, single, and I’ve built a life that looks pretty good on paper

Dear Uncle Gary,

I’m 38, single, and I’ve built a life that looks pretty good on paper. I’ve got a solid job, a decent apartment, a dog who thinks I’m a superhero, and friends who show up when it counts. But lately, I’ve been feeling this quiet panic, like I missed something.

I never really wanted the white-picket-fence life, but now I’m wondering if I skipped too many chapters. I see people settling down, having kids, building routines that look boring and beautiful at the same time. And I’m over here Googling “how to roast a chicken for one” and pretending I’m fine.

Is it possible to want more without knowing exactly what “more” means?

Signed, Good on Paper, Weird in the Heart

Dear Good on Paper, Weird in the Heart,

Let’s skip the polite nodding and get straight to it. You’re not broken. You’re not lost. You’re just waking up to the fact that a life built on checkboxes doesn’t always check out.

You’ve got the job, the apartment, the dog who thinks you’re a Nobel laureate every time you open the treat jar. You’ve got friends who show up and a calendar that looks full enough to impress your dentist. But somewhere in all that structure, something’s gone quiet.

That quiet isn’t failure. It’s a signal. It’s your soul tapping you on the shoulder and whispering, “Hey, remember me?”

Now, you don’t need to blow up your life. You don’t need to move to Bali or start a podcast about artisanal toast. You just need to listen. And one of the best ways to really listen is to talk to someone who knows how to ask the right questions.

Therapy isn’t a last resort. It’s a front-row seat to your own mind. It’s where you get to say, “I don’t know what I want,” and have someone reply, “Let’s find out.”

You don’t have to be in crisis to deserve clarity. You just have to be curious.

So go find a therapist who doesn’t blink when you say, “My life looks great but feels weird.” Someone who can help you unpack the difference between comfort and fulfillment. Between being fine and being alive.

And if anyone tries to tell you therapy is for people who can’t handle life, feel free to smile and say, “Exactly. I’m done handling. I’m ready to understand.”

You’re not asking for too much. You’re asking for something real.

Best Regards, Uncle Gary