What It Means to Grow Up Today

I have been paying closer attention this week, not just to the headlines, but to the pauses in between them. The way conversations shift when the topic turns to the world beyond Oman. The way a phone is picked up, scrolled, then quietly put down again.

For young Omanis and for many young people living here, the world does not arrive gradually anymore. It comes all at once. A conflict unfolding in real time. Images that are difficult to unsee. Opinions forming faster than facts. And somewhere in between all of that, the expectation to continue with life as normal: to study, to work, to plan ahead, as though the ground elsewhere is not constantly shifting.

What I’ve noticed, both online and in quieter, more personal spaces, is not panic. It is something more measured. A kind of steady awareness. Young people in Oman are not detached from what is happening around them, but neither are they consumed by it. They seem to exist in a careful balance, informed, but deliberate.

There is a psychological term for this: ambient anxiety. It is not tied to a single event, but to a constant sense that the world is unsettled. You do not always recognise it immediately. It shows up in small ways, difficulty concentrating, a need to step away, an underlying restlessness that is hard to name. And yet, what stands out is how instinctively many are learning to manage it.

I see it in the choices they make. Stepping away from the screen, even briefly. Replacing noise with routine: a workout, a walk, a conversation that does not revolve around what is going wrong elsewhere. These are not acts of avoidance. They are deliberate attempts to regain control over something, however small, in a world that often feels beyond it.

But there is a tendency, particularly among older generations, to look at this and assume resilience comes easily. That because young people are not outwardly overwhelmed, they are unaffected. I don’t think that is true.

If anything, this generation is carrying more than we acknowledge. They are growing up in a time where awareness is immediate and constant, where distance offers little protection. The challenge is not simply understanding the world, but learning how much of it to carry. And that is where we, as adults, need to recalibrate.

Support does not always mean providing answers. Often, it means recognising the weight without trying to reduce it to something simpler. It means listening without dismissing and offering perspective without undermining what they feel. There is strength in this generation, certainly. But it is a strength that should be seen, not assumed.

For the youth themselves, the task is equally complex. To stay engaged, but not consumed. To care deeply, but not at the cost of their own stability. It is not an easy balance to strike, and yet, from what I have seen this week, many are already attempting it in their own way. Quietly. Deliberately. Without needing to announce it.