I tried to stop being anxious about money. It completely backfired.

Gen Z is afraid.

AI will take over their job. They'll never buy a house. They'll go bankrupt caring for their parents. They're being left behind by their peers. They'll never retire.

Gen Z is also in pretty good shape.

They're investing earlier than previous generations, starting at 19 on average and six years earlier than millennials. A recent Vanguard study found that 47% of Gen Z workers are positioned to retire successfully, compared to 40% of baby boomers, based on Vanguard's analysis of government data. The St. Louis Fed estimates that millennial and older Gen Z households had, on average, 35% more wealth, adjusted for inflation, than boomers did at that age, and younger Zoomers may be on pace to match that trend.

Despite the decent footing, Gen Z — currently ages 14 to 29 — can't shake the feeling that something is off. Call it a personal financial vibecession. And it's pretty widespread: Over the past few months, I've spoken to dozens of younger Americans who laid out their deep-seated financial fears. I also have experience with the problem myself: As a 25-year-old reporter and part-time trivia writer, I've been crippled by money worries, despite my rabid dedication to saving.

Throughout college, I worked three jobs at a time. I saved every receipt during my senior year internship. I would spend $14 on groceries, intending that, plus free office meals, to last me a week or more. I was grateful to have the opportunity to save, as my parents helped pay for my steeply discounted tuition. By 2023, I had surpassed my savings milestone of $100,000, a number I had targeted for years, and secured a full-time job — but I couldn't let myself enjoy it. The next $100,000 seemed more important. Without it, I wouldn't feel secure. Over the past year, I've vowed to get better at enjoying my hard work. Still, I haven't shaken the internal voice telling me that I'm falling behind. I still feel guilty whenever I make any unnecessary purchase.

There are good reasons for my generation to be concerned. In the five years since 2020, Zillow data shows that home prices have jumped over 45% nationwide on average. Inflation-adjusted costs of education and childcare have risen. Today's job market is more competitive for entry-level jobs and, in many industries, increasingly dependent on specialized skills. There are also reasons for optimism, including earlier savings and investing, opportunities for side hustles, and rising wages.

So why does it seem like most people my age think they'll never retire? Why do my high-earning friends feel like they'll never be successful? Why do I feel like I can't "live"?

In my conversations with two dozen Gen Z workers, older Americans, and financial experts for this article, the consensus was that the expectations placed on younger people have been inflated by social media, leaving high-achieving young people feeling as though they will never be enough. But there's more to the story. Our expectations of ourselves are often too high, and we should all seek out moments, even if fleeting, to celebrate ourselves.

While money anxiety isn't a unique affliction among younger people, the so-called "anxious generation" has in many ways earned the moniker. Recent Edward Jones survey data show that only 5% of Gen Z respondents felt "financially fulfilled," defined as the point at which finances align with their values and goals. Beyond money, the American Psychological Association has also shown that younger Americans report higher stress levels than their older counterparts, with some experts citing stressors like inflation, COVID after-effects, and healthcare challenges. Almost everyone I speak to in my generation feels the odds are stacked against them to some degree.

Money anxiety is often acute among higher earners, many of whom are battling lifestyle creep, living in expensive areas, and paying off student debt from advanced degrees. Higher earners also often have outsize expectations of what it means to be successful. While some tell me success comes from working a job they love and having the financial means to enjoy life, others say success means starting a company, earning standard deviations above average, or entering the C-suite before 30.

Emma Irwin, 27, graduated from college in three years, then bounced around lower-cost-of-living cities as she built her career in brand marketing. Now in Minneapolis, she earns nearly six figures but feels she's living paycheck to paycheck. She adds that growing grocery costs, frequent moves, and hobbies have made her feel uneasy, despite feeling emotionally fulfilled. Despite contributing to a 401(k) and Roth IRA, she worries she may never retire comfortably.

"I have this pipe dream of having a farm sanctuary in the Hudson Valley, as every kind of millennial does, but that costs a bazillion dollars too, so that's probably unlikely," Irwin says.

Sonya Lutter, director of financial health and wellness at Texas Tech, says it's very common for higher earners to experience intense pressure to save. Some higher earners I spoke to say their stress shifted years ago from basic survival to lifestyle maintenance and asset preservation, fueling a need to hang on to every dollar they have. A few admit to having some form of money dysmorphia, in which higher earners feel broke compared to others making much more. Lutter says it often takes a wake-up call to step back and create a "values bull's-eye" of what people cherish most in their lives.

"It's a reality of adjusting current and future goals and expectations to align more authentically with who I am as a person," Lutter says.

Then there are the millions of Gen Zers who have fallen behind financially. The unemployment rate for recent college graduates is about 5.6%, compared with 4.2% for all workers, and the underemployment rate (those working in jobs that don't require a four-year bachelor's degree) is 42%, compared with 33.7% for all college graduates. A recent Bank of America study found that 43% of Gen Z reported not being on track to begin actively saving for retirement in the next five years, while 55% said they lacked three months' worth of emergency savings. Financial concerns have pushed nearly three-fourths of Gen Z adults to delay at least one major life milestone, according to a survey from Northwestern Mutual.

Maria Aldrich, 26, who lives in a small town in upstate New York, couldn't find a stable job applying her major, so she became a full-time writer while paying down over $100,000 in student loans. She describes her financial mindset as "surviving" and, until recently, earned between $1,000 and $4,000 a month. She knew she would have to repay her loans, but she suspects older generations may not grasp the "crippling environment" Gen Zers face.

"I'm seeking a sense of normalcy by having retirement savings and benefits," Aldrich says. "I feel caught in this really weird dance of time right now."

Covering personal finance for my job and still struggling with money anxiety … gives me anxiety. I know more about managing money than most of my peers, yet sometimes it's impossible to apply those lessons.

In fact, much of my anxiety has been fueled by my work. Last year, I interviewed 200 people who were past 80, many of whom were working in home construction, pulling night shifts as nurses, or sacrificing their health to pay the bills. Most worked uninterrupted for decades, lived frugally, and invested in their long-term care. This year, I've continued to interview scores of older Americans navigating difficult financial situations, including grandparents raising grandchildren and people shelling out six figures on long-term care. After hearing story after story, I grew more jittery.

Ambitious Gen Zers tell me they're constantly bombarded with personal finance content on social media. There's always a new strategy for saving an extra $10, a new credit card hack to accumulate more points, or a new TikToker making them feel guilty for not being savvier. Some agreed the whirlwind of often contradictory advice has made it impossible to "set it and forget it." It also makes everyday decisions crippling: It's harder to click "buy" on a $200 concert ticket when you know that money could grow to $5,000 if invested correctly. That extra $50 I save by buying used clothes instead of new ones could compound over the years into a dream retirement vacation.

And just as our internet habits can add to the feeling of pressure, they can also provide young people with a generational scapegoat: boomers. It's easy to point out that older generations have benefited from rising property values or defined-benefit pensions. Gen Zers argue that boomers "pulled up the ladder behind them" after accumulating massive wealth. This thinking can be counterproductive. Criticizing your 60-year-old boss for not retiring, or generalizing all 70-year-olds as wealthy, does little to boost your savings account balance.

The truth is, you can't compare generations "because each one of them has experienced things within their economic foreground that is causing the behaviors they have and their thought patterns with money," says Jade Warshaw, co-host of the investing podcast The Ramsey Show. "My mom experienced inflation from the '70s, oil embargoes, and real estate in the '80s with 18% interest rates."

I've realized that if learning more about personal finance has heightened my anxiety, forgetting it and enjoying life is the solution. It's a position I know that many Gen Zers can't fully take to heart. Some must grind to have any semblance of financial stability. Many have made financial mistakes, face the shame of unemployment, or stare in pain at their student debt. It's important to be cognizant of the wide variety of experiences — there are more than 71 million Gen Zers in the US alone. As Lutter at Texas Tech tells me, it's harmful to group a generation into "one neat little box."

After years of financial anxiety, Mikala Moorech, 28, hired a financial coach to help her navigate long-term goals, such as buying a house. Moorech makes low six figures in Philadelphia and is paying down almost $100,000 in debt while contributing as much as she can to retirement. She says it's been therapeutic to have someone guide her through financial decisions and has made her feel more secure, given the financial disagreements she's had with her parents.

"My dad, a couple of years ago, was like, 'You're making X amount. You should be able to afford a house.' I told him that it's not quite that simple," Moorech says.

For my part, I've limited my financial doomscrolling, set limits on LinkedIn stalking, become more open about money with friends, and started to rationalize payments less often. Whereas last year I would justify eating out if I earned an extra $50 from trivia writing, I've tried to stop thinking of everything as transactional. I don't think I'll ever rid myself of the painstaking financial calculations that have governed my life, but I see a path forward.

Last December, while traversing the rainy streets of Tokyo, I opened my bank account to see how much I'd spent that week. My heart raced as I saw the dollar amount, but I knew it was still within my budget. So at the ramen restaurant I went to that day, I shut off my internal monologue, opened the menu, and ordered the most expensive bowl.