Ever since last year I have felt this sense of something. I don’t know if it’s been a sense of impending doom or a sense of being on the horizon of great things. The best way I know to describe this feeling is to say that I feel like a small boat. A small boat without an anchor and floating aimlessly in the sea. Bobbing with the rise and fall of the waves. Directionless and at the mercy of a force I don’t wholly comprehend.
I never really knew what my purpose in life was, or even if I was supposed to have a purpose in life. I didn’t choose to be here and quite frankly, I’d prefer not to be. But I’m playing with the cards I’ve been dealt. My most recent breakup has really solidified how lost I feel because he was my last anchor to what felt like solid ground until he didn’t feel secure anymore. So I cut the tie and committed to being at the mercy of the waves of life.
Now I’m left to figure out what’s next. I can’t envision another romantic relationship being in my future, and it feels silly (and foolish) to anticipate a new one. I’m not exactly a catch. I’m a liability if nothing else. I’m constantly sick or injured. I can’t hold down a job. I don’t come with the sense of security that I would expect someone I desire to need. I’m really battling with the reality that I will die alone in the romantic sense.
I have amazing friendships and don’t worry about a lack of a support system or platonic loneliness. But I do know that platonic relationships are not a substitute for romantic love. And it’s okay to feel this way, I can decenter romance from my life but it doesn’t negate that the desire is still there.
I never really envisioned myself living very long. I honestly didn’t think I would make it into my 20’s, let alone to be a few months from 40 years old.
This really hit me recently because I was asked a few times in one week, what my goals are and I had to be honest about not having any. I’ve been fairly open about the fact that I don’t make personal goals anymore. It was a conscious decision to choose not to do so. I’ve learned that the disappointment of not achieving a goal far outweighs the short-lived feeling of accomplishment that comes with achieving one. My tendency to catastrophize makes it feel like my whole world is crumbling around me when I fail at a short or long-term goal. My health, both physical and mental, is too unpredictable and throws obstacle after obstacle in my way. So I just don’t make goals. I don’t feel ashamed of this, but I know it’s a dealbreaker for others. I simply commit to living my life as authentically as possible and growing into a better version of myself along the way.
But what now? I have no idea what I want to do next. I don’t feel passionate about anything. I can’t envision my next moves. The feeling of wandering but knowing there is something out there for me, if I just knew which direction to go is maddening.
In some ways, it feels like a clock is winding down and if I don’t choose a direction to go I’ll lose out on something. But on the other hand, is this just social programming? Am I looking back and realizing all the time I wasted on trying to fit into social order that isn’t sustainable or healthy and feeling regret? Am I suddenly acutely aware that time is running out on having the physical and mental capacity to experience a life I wish I lived? Am I just experiencing a prolonged depressive episode that I’m not accustomed to?
All these thoughts and questions feel overwhelming and I want to run from them. But where can I run that these won’t follow? Nowhere. I can’t get lost in work, or hobbies, or someone else and tune them out. I have to sit with them and figure it out.
What’s next? I don’t know and I’m not okay with that. At least not yet.
