Purpose

It's ironic, sometimes I have so many stories in my head, countless stories that I want to tell. Then when I sit down and put pen to paper, they disappear. What I think happens is all the stories make a brief appearance all at once, but there is nothing I can hold on too. So it turns into this endless brewing of tales, memories, fantasies, current affairs and I can't seem to find the words. Purpose has been on my mind for the last year and it seems to be a complicated mix of thoughts. I made a giant leap into the unknown, voluntarily leaving a cherished comfort zone. In turn, my purpose has come into question.

I was a young social work student working in a large Veteran's hospital. I was fairly green and my mentor would often send me to chat with Veterans, mainly to practice my bedside manner. One particular Veteran stands out in my memory. A man, I'd say in his mid 50's or even late 40's. He was admitted for alcohol withdrawal and I was tasked to discuss treatment options with him. When I entered the room, it was dark. He was lying in his bed, covers over his head. I introduced myself and he greeted me quietly. As we started chatting I could sense he was guarded. Humans tend to carry around shields, especially when they are holding on to shame. You can feel it when you've encountered it enough. After about 10 minutes of chatting he divulged that he had lost his job due to an injury. He could't find work and started drinking to pass the time and deal with his loss of purpose. Work, being the "breadwinner", being the "Man" was so engrained into his sense of self, without it, his reason for living had been lost. He couldn't imagine any other way of being, he couldn't see that he wasn't his work or his gender, he was so many things. He couldn't see the possibilities! (Way more to this story, but it doesn't serve the point).

This story has always stuck with me. Maybe because it was one of the first Veterans I really connected with, or the first of many men whom I met struggling with loss of purpose, who turned to substance abuse. Now, as I'm in my 40's and dealing with the same questions, it's serving as a lesson. Usually with loss as a catalyst, we get to this point and ask the question, “Why?" It may come in many forms, but this crisis creates a list of questions that, sadly, usually go unanswered. So we scramble. So much of who we are as a being, our wants, desires, our mistakes, our overall sense of self comes to the surface. 

It doesn't seem fair. Many of us have been active participants in how our lives have developed and it's so easy to say, "Well, I chose this." For me, so much of my life and where I am today has been actively cultivated. But was it all me? I could sit here and discuss how I was influenced as a young woman to take various paths, I could talk about the expectations placed on women and how they should live there lives. I could talk about the amount of shame and guilt placed on humans who steer away from the norms of life, I could talk about the judgement and insecure mirroring we encounter from loved ones when we become something they don't want us to be, But we have TikTok for that.

The past year has been about exploring existential questions. It's been about overcoming fear and sitting in it. It's been about really using coping skills. Sometimes I go to dark places, places that I never ever thought I'd go. Sometimes I feel immense feelings of relief and happiness. Sometimes I’m questioning why I exist. With all the shit things happening in the world I feel completely useless. I sit in my privileged life and feel out of touch. I sit in guilt wondering why loving my children and my partner isn’t enough to make me happy.

*So, now I’ve said all that… this is a philosophical/sharing exercise. This is not a story to illicit praise, concern, encouragement. I’m telling this story because I know other people are going through this too.

Many people who have entered into age related transitions (there are many) question their purpose/existence. This is a crisis that doesn't just happen in midlife, it happens often. This is a natural occurrence. This time, at least for me, it's different. I knew it was coming but I didn’t understand the gravity behind it. This weight of mortality, this grappling for meaning. It’s an f-ing doozy! I’ve had enough therapy to know I’ll come out of it and I know I’m not alone. I am lucky enough to wake up in the morning, embrace my family, and greet the day with an educated mind and a history of experiences on my back.

Purpose is not just one sided, it's multi dimensional. It's dependent on time and what life puts in front of us. It's what we choose to be and how we react to the world. Sadly, I'm not immortal. Just a bunch of different things wrapped up in a ball of flesh. All of us have a limited time on earth and we never know when it's going to end. So, strap in, make some decisions and try to find a way to bring joy along. It’s going to be dark, it’s going to be sad and full of grief, but that’s inescapable. I'm just going to be here, be me, and at one point I'll figure out a new path. But for now I'll just keep plugging away. It's never over, until it is.

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honourable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Be well.