I suddenly wake up. I fumble in the dark, for my phone. I fail to find it. It's still dark outside, so I assume that I have woken up in the middle of the night and can sleep in for a few more hours.
But I wake up anyway. I visit the toilet. I come back. And only now, do I notice the time. It's already 6.30 AM, and the dark outside is but an indicator of the winter weather that has slowly but surely arrived.
I sit down on my bed. I wonder. What should I do today? I wonder. What I am actually thinking is, what should I do today that will make my soul happy?
I will very soon be a 26-year-old. I have a nice job. I enjoy my work and enjoy the company of my colleagues. I have a few close friends. All in all, my life is one that should make me happy.
And yet, I'm not content. I'm not content with the way my life has turned out. I had always wanted to be more, and suddenly, my failure to define more in a better manner during my teens stares me in the face. What is more? Will I be happy at more? Will I even ever reach the fabled more?
I think about this every day. That constant nag of fear and anxiety and urgency to go and achieve more is always, permanently there. I feel the need to be productive, every single minute of every single day. Of course, I fail massively at that. And all these feelings combined: they sometimes get the better of me. And that is when I give up any pretences of having my life together, and I sit down and wallow in my failures. I wallow in self-pity and doubts.
Is this a good way of handling things? Surely not. Is there something better I can do with my time? Surely, yes. Should I be happy and content in my life, anyway? A resounding, yes. Because I am privileged and lucky. Yet, I battle with my life, and I battle with myself, every day, and I cannot understand why.
A friend tells me that it's the classic quarter-life crisis. Great, nothing like having a diagnosis to your symptoms.
The treatment? Well, that's a whole other matter. Perhaps there's yet to be a universal cure for it. I just hope I can cure myself soon!
But I wake up anyway. I visit the toilet. I come back. And only now, do I notice the time. It's already 6.30 AM, and the dark outside is but an indicator of the winter weather that has slowly but surely arrived.
I sit down on my bed. I wonder. What should I do today? I wonder. What I am actually thinking is, what should I do today that will make my soul happy?
I will very soon be a 26-year-old. I have a nice job. I enjoy my work and enjoy the company of my colleagues. I have a few close friends. All in all, my life is one that should make me happy.
And yet, I'm not content. I'm not content with the way my life has turned out. I had always wanted to be more, and suddenly, my failure to define more in a better manner during my teens stares me in the face. What is more? Will I be happy at more? Will I even ever reach the fabled more?
I think about this every day. That constant nag of fear and anxiety and urgency to go and achieve more is always, permanently there. I feel the need to be productive, every single minute of every single day. Of course, I fail massively at that. And all these feelings combined: they sometimes get the better of me. And that is when I give up any pretences of having my life together, and I sit down and wallow in my failures. I wallow in self-pity and doubts.
Is this a good way of handling things? Surely not. Is there something better I can do with my time? Surely, yes. Should I be happy and content in my life, anyway? A resounding, yes. Because I am privileged and lucky. Yet, I battle with my life, and I battle with myself, every day, and I cannot understand why.
A friend tells me that it's the classic quarter-life crisis. Great, nothing like having a diagnosis to your symptoms.
The treatment? Well, that's a whole other matter. Perhaps there's yet to be a universal cure for it. I just hope I can cure myself soon!
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