The only purpose of our lives consists in waking each other up and being there for each other. – Johanna Paungger
In my late twenties and early thirties, I agonized over my purpose in life.
I felt like my life was completely wrong. Wrong job, wrong life situation, wrong direction, wrong decisions, wrong everything. I had this grand idea that there was something else I had to be doing, i.e. succeeding, and something else I had to be, i.e. a high achiever. I read up on all these articles about people doing worthwhile things in their lives–earning big bucks, becoming CEOs or leaders in their areas, winning awards and honors, establishing charities and helping people hell, publishing books–and then I’d look at where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing, and proceed to go all Chuck Norris on myself.
One day, after I’d had enough of self-inflicted beatings, I sat back, gingerly put plaster on all my bruises, wiped the blood and drool off my face, and just asked myself: What in the world do I want to do with my life? Never mind what everyone else is doing. What do I want?
The answer? Whatever it was I was supposed to be doing, only in a purposeful, meaningful, loving way. And it had to begin with loving myself, which includes loving my job, loving the people around me, and loving my life.
It’s an uphill battle. I know envy and insecurity so well I know what they taste like. But then I go out and crack a joke and make somebody smile…or I post something that may encourage or inspire someone out there…or I pick up a bit of litter when I can…or I write a story with a lesson I’ve learned embedded within it…
And I figure, hey, this just might be what it’s all about.