It has always troubled me that we are all guided into these conventional, and frankly, uninteresting lives. Lives in which we grow up, go to college, have a career, get married, have children, maybe go on a few vacations, and then die.
On one side, I see the value in wanting to follow the “rules” that society lays out for us. It is easier. It is already planned out, and it is a route of guaranteed satisfaction. But on the other side, I see the undeniable and all-consuming monotony of it. And this is where I get stuck.
Sometimes, I experience this sudden wave of panic, where I feel absolutely and irrevocably trapped in my own life. Like I’m not doing enough. Like I am missing it. What exactly is “it”? I literally can’t tell you. Perhaps it is the feeling of being able to do everything, but nothing all at once. A feeling of “I am just being told what to do rather than living to my utmost potential as an individual."
Particularly, one of the toughest lessons I have learned in the past 10 years, that has played a significant role in this crisis, has been that of romantic love. I think that our culture puts such an immense pressure on its people to be associated with another human being that we blind ourselves into believing that it should be the center of our lives. And that is simply not true. Music, T.V. shows, paintings, novels, films - our perceptions of romance have become the roots of all consumerism. Romance has become dishonest and sugar-coated. Like the generic scene where the boy meets the girl at the bus stop and then they float off into the sunset holding hands; never again to experience any form of heartache.
The earth is boundless: full of opportunity and adventure and people and life. There is value and beauty in loving another person romantically, but I would argue that it should not be our purpose. To love people in general? Perhaps, yes. But to latch yourself to another being and naming them the sole source of your happiness is risky business. People are ever-changing and inconsistent. Frankly, we should not expect much from them. And it is the moment we do that we surrender an element of ourselves and give that person full permission to influence our lives.
I am talking about time. The time in which you spend self-actualizing is the most underrated, and in turn, the most important. To hand ourselves over to romances before we have had time to even look at our own hands is so damaging to our potential as people. In this period of growth ask yourself first: what is your life? What does it mean to you? What do you want to do? And what do you want to see?
You were not born by accident or coincidence; do not let this fact intimidate you. What can you do today? And where can you go from here?
I am not here to encourage you to live in panic or with dissatisfaction, but rather to see your life for the epic opportunity that it is. To love people is valuable. But to love yourself, love your life, and give yourself permission to grow? That can be beautiful too.
