I Crave Purpose
It's not uncommon for me to be crushed by the despair of my own existentialism. It's something that's been going on for a long time now. The ebb-and-flow of depression leaves my mind in a state of turbulence that can find no peace. The impetus for my downward spiral of hopelessness tends to vary, but the end result is the same. It always ends with me wondering what I'm doing with my life.
Now that I'm older, I've been able to do a lot of things most people never get a chance to. I've done a lot that I can look back upon fondly, and things that have improved my quality of life. I've gotten to learn things that have broadened my understanding of this world, and read books that have helped me imagine many others. I've gotten to live in vastly different areas of the country and witness the diverse beauty of nature firsthand.
Yet this all still doesn't satiate my spirit. As far as I've come, I'm still no closer to filling the void in my life. The crutches I’ve been relying on can no longer support me, and in growing out of them I’ve doubted whether I’m strong enough to continue on my own, or whether I even want to. These past few months I’ve seemed to drudge onward solely out of habit. But there’s a part of me that thinks something good can come out this mental anguish. That misery can teach me what I need to know. That I can let the suffering fuel my desire to rise above it. This part of me has got me thinking about what it is that I want to do with my life, and where I should channel these emotions.
For months I struggled in the pursuit of a purpose. I searched my mind for anything that would lead in the right direction. I thought about the places I’d wanted to see, the things that brought me the most comfort, the activities that yielded the highest satisfaction, and the ideas I valued more than any others, but could not extract any sense of direction from it. These were mere hobbies and recreations that I used to pass the time. They weren’t a reason to get up every day.
I questioned whether a sense of purpose was even possible for me. I started to break down what a purpose is made of to try to further my understanding. Purpose is something that requires a reason or intent to pursue. The thing about reason, however, is that it’s arbitrary. There are a myriad of mental gymnastics one can do to find a reason for something. I often wondered if the whimsical nature of intent cheapened the whole purpose of having a purpose. Regardless, I was intent on having one.
Then I started thinking about what governs reason. Why do we think what we think? At the time I was also mulling over about ideology and identity politics and these two trains of thought collided momentarily. Ideologies and identities all have their own goals and/or objectives associated with them, from which a sense of purpose can be adopted. Their identity provides the lens through which they view and interact with the world, and it’s this interpretation that creates certain expectations which people feel fulfillment in abiding by.
This fueled my doubt even more as there was not an ideology or identity that I felt comfortable with. I thought that without the expectations associated with these labels, I could never figure out what I was supposed to do. I had lost hope for a while before recently revisiting this thought. I realized that ultimately, ideologies and identities are adopted because of perspective. There’s no registration required, no paperwork, no background checks. Nothing. Labels are arbitrary things that can mean whatever a person wants them to mean. A label isn’t required for a sense of purpose because a label is an arbitrary perspective. So I shed the notion of looking for a label and instead focused on exploring my feelings. I had to try to understand what I felt, why I felt that way, and what I could do to validate those feelings.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find out what I wanted. While I had been looking for meaning inside of me by analyzing my likes and my interests and my preferences, my purpose is something that I had never gotten a chance to do. A lifetime of solitude forced me to live without it. I learned to do things by myself and for myself, and I grew up to expect it. And while this solitary autonomy has done a lot for me, it was ultimately a very empty existence. I internalized my independence so deeply that the mere thought of being cherished by someone else didn’t make sense. I lived a life so isolated that I could never realize my true purpose, a purpose which I now see so clearly. My life’s purpose is to love.
Though there would be many occasions where I had thought of the possibility of love and relationships, it would not take long for me to give up hope and withdraw into my own world. The loneliness and lack of relevance this led to was so suffocating at times that it felt as if love was the only cure. But now I wonder if this suffocating feeling didn’t stem from the solitude, but rather manifested itself from the inability to fulfill my purpose.
Maybe it doesn’t matter why I felt that way. Maybe I’ve rambled on too long. At this point, all I know is that I want to love someone. To make them feel loved and to make them want to give me love in return. I know that love isn’t a panacea, and I don’t expect it to be. I know that relationships won’t always be easy. I know that people are complex, and that it will take time and effort to truly get to know them, but I finally found something I can commit to. It will be a long process, but I’m prepared to make it happen. I’m ready to pursue my purpose.
Now that I'm older, I've been able to do a lot of things most people never get a chance to. I've done a lot that I can look back upon fondly, and things that have improved my quality of life. I've gotten to learn things that have broadened my understanding of this world, and read books that have helped me imagine many others. I've gotten to live in vastly different areas of the country and witness the diverse beauty of nature firsthand.
Yet this all still doesn't satiate my spirit. As far as I've come, I'm still no closer to filling the void in my life. The crutches I’ve been relying on can no longer support me, and in growing out of them I’ve doubted whether I’m strong enough to continue on my own, or whether I even want to. These past few months I’ve seemed to drudge onward solely out of habit. But there’s a part of me that thinks something good can come out this mental anguish. That misery can teach me what I need to know. That I can let the suffering fuel my desire to rise above it. This part of me has got me thinking about what it is that I want to do with my life, and where I should channel these emotions.
For months I struggled in the pursuit of a purpose. I searched my mind for anything that would lead in the right direction. I thought about the places I’d wanted to see, the things that brought me the most comfort, the activities that yielded the highest satisfaction, and the ideas I valued more than any others, but could not extract any sense of direction from it. These were mere hobbies and recreations that I used to pass the time. They weren’t a reason to get up every day.
I questioned whether a sense of purpose was even possible for me. I started to break down what a purpose is made of to try to further my understanding. Purpose is something that requires a reason or intent to pursue. The thing about reason, however, is that it’s arbitrary. There are a myriad of mental gymnastics one can do to find a reason for something. I often wondered if the whimsical nature of intent cheapened the whole purpose of having a purpose. Regardless, I was intent on having one.
Then I started thinking about what governs reason. Why do we think what we think? At the time I was also mulling over about ideology and identity politics and these two trains of thought collided momentarily. Ideologies and identities all have their own goals and/or objectives associated with them, from which a sense of purpose can be adopted. Their identity provides the lens through which they view and interact with the world, and it’s this interpretation that creates certain expectations which people feel fulfillment in abiding by.
This fueled my doubt even more as there was not an ideology or identity that I felt comfortable with. I thought that without the expectations associated with these labels, I could never figure out what I was supposed to do. I had lost hope for a while before recently revisiting this thought. I realized that ultimately, ideologies and identities are adopted because of perspective. There’s no registration required, no paperwork, no background checks. Nothing. Labels are arbitrary things that can mean whatever a person wants them to mean. A label isn’t required for a sense of purpose because a label is an arbitrary perspective. So I shed the notion of looking for a label and instead focused on exploring my feelings. I had to try to understand what I felt, why I felt that way, and what I could do to validate those feelings.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find out what I wanted. While I had been looking for meaning inside of me by analyzing my likes and my interests and my preferences, my purpose is something that I had never gotten a chance to do. A lifetime of solitude forced me to live without it. I learned to do things by myself and for myself, and I grew up to expect it. And while this solitary autonomy has done a lot for me, it was ultimately a very empty existence. I internalized my independence so deeply that the mere thought of being cherished by someone else didn’t make sense. I lived a life so isolated that I could never realize my true purpose, a purpose which I now see so clearly. My life’s purpose is to love.
Though there would be many occasions where I had thought of the possibility of love and relationships, it would not take long for me to give up hope and withdraw into my own world. The loneliness and lack of relevance this led to was so suffocating at times that it felt as if love was the only cure. But now I wonder if this suffocating feeling didn’t stem from the solitude, but rather manifested itself from the inability to fulfill my purpose.
Maybe it doesn’t matter why I felt that way. Maybe I’ve rambled on too long. At this point, all I know is that I want to love someone. To make them feel loved and to make them want to give me love in return. I know that love isn’t a panacea, and I don’t expect it to be. I know that relationships won’t always be easy. I know that people are complex, and that it will take time and effort to truly get to know them, but I finally found something I can commit to. It will be a long process, but I’m prepared to make it happen. I’m ready to pursue my purpose.
