I feel stuck today. I felt stuck yesterday, and my guess is that tomorrow will bring with it the same sense of a hazy stream of uninspired consciousness. It’s peculiar that in a world so constantly changing, everything can begin to appear so unbearably stagnant.

I’m on the phone struggling through muddled words to my mom, and she says, “It’s the end of the semester.” And while that may be true, I can’t look around myself and make the connection. I think, “It’s not the time of year, it’s the reality of life. It’s frustrating and unfulfilling in its monotony, and I’m painfully stressed, and where can I even go from here?”

These transitional stages of our lives are vastly future oriented. It’s impossible to go about my day as a college sophomore without asking myself what the point of it all is, rather than just treating each day as its own entity. Why am I working so hard every day for an ultimate goal that I haven’t even identified yet? Why am I going to the torturous trouble of double majoring in english and math, when I haven’t even figured out the age-old question of “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The days mix together in a cycle of work, stress, and existential breakdowns, and as I struggle to paint out exactly what it is that I want from life, the sense of pointlessness becomes all the more oppressive.

The future overwhelms me, and this is such a college-student thing to say that I’m embarrassed to admit it. I wish that I could just ignore these feelings of doubt and stress, but as the layer of sublimated anxieties thickens and festers, it manifests in these existential crises of helpless questioning. I find myself stuck in these cycles of unease and lacking motivation. I perform the daily tasks and complete my mountains of assignments, but everything feels empty. I am robotic and uninspired, and as I start to feel the life leaking out of me with increasing speed, I realize that I am burning out. I’m sure I’m not alone in this, as this whole thing sounds like a monologue from every angsty coming-of-age story in existence. So what do I do from here?

The art of un-sticking oneself is complicated. Everyone has their own methods of waking up from these relentless slumps, with varying degrees of success, and I think that the only real solution I have ever come up with for myself is seeking beauty in the little things. When every day feels like the same repetition of mistakes and annoyances, a cup of coffee with a friend can offer a moment of comforting pleasantry. Seeing the leaves bud on the trees, taking a moment to watch the sun go down, listening to music, completing a short term goal, or going out of my way to do something personally enjoyable in the day, just to give myself a few moments of release, can reinvigorate the desire to move forward.

I took a bus out of town with some friends today, and walking to the bus stop was absolutely beautiful. The earth is coming alive in springtime, and it’s hard to watch the rebirth without wanting to renew myself as well. These “slumps” of mine tend to go deeper than such simplicities, and I can’t drag myself out of these spirals by walking in the sun with people that I love, but if anything, it’s a moment that I can give to myself to disrupt these thoughts of doubt and worry. We all deserve these moments, especially when we’re feeling stuck.