At 17, I envisioned a future as a successful marine biologist, making a name for myself, surrounded by love, and achieving the kind of personal and professional milestones I’d been told all my life were far outside of my reach. Fast forward to almost 30, and I haven’t done any of these things. Sure, I have stability in my job, a new car, a nice apartment, and a beautiful daughter – things I’m grateful for. However, this overwhelming emptiness and discontent still lingers in my heart, permeating every aspect of my being.
Loneliness and dissatisfaction have been lifelong struggles for me, but I’ve also always believed that, with enough effort, self-actualization and happiness were possible. I’ve seen so many seemingly fulfilled people around me that I can’t not believe it’s possible. Yet, a month away from 30, I don’t know anymore.
Over the last 2 years, these feelings of dissatisfaction have become so much stronger than I ever thought possible. Since I’ve noticed this, and I happen to be in a position to have a little more physical and financial freedom than I’ve ever had before, I believed I could resolve it or “Find myself” if I put in the right kind of effort – so I put in all of the effort I could muster. Over the course of 2023, I’ve spent 11,000 miles on the road, I’ve sung hundreds of songs loud enough to cut my throat, and I’ve spent so many hours alone with my thoughts that I’ve seen every shadowed corner my heart tried to hide from me. I’ve doubled my income and lived through my work to help build a start-up. I’ve had a gun pointed at me, and I’ve had things stolen from my physical person and from my car. I’ve practiced baking, coding, and I’ve spent over $1,000 on a stupid card game. I’ve stood on beaches in major storms, I’ve watched the sun rise and fall over mountains, I’ve drank myself into a blackout. I’ve met and temporarily befriended countless strangers, I’ve lost weight, I’ve gained weight, I learned kickboxing. I’ve read dozens of books, I’ve written thousands of words, and I’ve taken hundreds of pictures. I’ve reached out to every person I’ve hurt and, where appropriate, I’ve apologized and taken all the accountability I could. I traveled across the country and got lost in a city I’d never explored before. I’ve done everything I’ve ever seen in a “Finding myself” montage, and I’ve found… nothing.
With the lack of progress, those dark, exhausting feelings have gotten stronger and the burnout is palpable. I’m reaching a breaking point.
Looking back, my main drive used to be all about love – finding a soulmate, starting a family, and sharing cool experiences with someone special. But since 2022, feeling that love/ connection with others has been kinda tough. I still crave it, deeply, but I genuinely can’t feel it for anyone around me anymore. I think that might be why I’m having such a hard time feeling proud of or finding value in my life experiences.
I’m starting to worry that maybe I’m a bit too messed up and won’t be able to feel love again. The thought of a future where I’m just hustling to meet quotas and handle responsibilities without feeling truly happy is freaking me out. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going like this.
CaliStray 