That Time I Figured Out Life as a Teenager at 2AM and Then Promptly Proceeded to Ignore It for More Than a Decade
Maybe you knew the direction all along, but lost your way.
Your desires matter.
And you likely already know the direction to go.
Once, many moons ago, I was sitting up long into the wee hours of the night.
I was playing a small game you might have heard of, World of Warcraft, with an internet friend. I was 16. He was a lad from Northern Ireland, a year younger. We were part of a guild, a group of people who came together regularly to play.
We had a tight-knit group, with which we even played other games. Truthfully, the games we played never mattered. Our conversations did.
I will always look back at those days as something special.
We’d sit up, talking for hours on end, fighting back sleep to stay in the moment for as long as possible. I remember waking up with my face on the keyboard multiple times, and regularly laughing at someone snoring into their microphone.
The conversations would always take a turn for the unique, with a tinge of that profoundness one can only truly experience in the delirious throes of sleep deprivation. An exploration of meaning, a place to discuss how we might belong in the world—a discussion we sorely needed as misfit teenagers.
This one conversation turned to our futures. What was our plan? What did we see for ourselves? We both had a dour disposition at the time, wary from loneliness. It wasn’t a conversation marked by optimism, but by utility, pragmatism and cynicism.
Being the elder of the two, he asked me many questions, expecting me to have a clear vision of the future and a goal.
But I saw nothing.
All I could see was a haze, clouding a silhouette I assumed was me, and a faint tinge of green.
It was like I needed glasses.
What would I do for a living? Would I have a family? Would I be alone? Was I rich? Was I strong? Was I happy?
Nothing.
I saw nothing.
My friend chimed in with his vision. He was considering which path to pursue in school, which job to shoot for. He told me:
I don’t care about the job. I just want to be paid well, I know I can handle whatever, I can handle being bored.
I distinctly remember laughing at him, calling him a fucking dumbass.
Money isn’t the goal. Don’t chase a life you’ll hate for a reward that doesn’t matter.
I monologued for minutes about following my desires, and how I knew what he was proposing was a dead end. A life of devoid of fulfillment.
I knew nothing of the world or my goal, but I knew I had a direction.
One thing little Rasmus didn’t know, however, was that he was at the beginning stages of a long battle with depression, loneliness and weight gain.
He didn’t know he’d spend the next many years receding into himself. That he’d be unable to stay in contact with his friends. That he’d just about get by in school, barely able to show up. That he’d feel unwanted and unwelcome by his peers.
He didn’t know that he mattered, however insignificant.
And is it any surprise, then, that he lost his way as the goal fell in the water and started drifting away?
When he got in after it?
The goal disappeared in the murky waters just out of reach, carried away ever further, as he treaded water, trying to stay above, clinging to hope, and with each kick the sun gave way to night, the light faded, and darkness set in.
A figure emerged from the water. It searched for a path. The beaten path, for it was all it could muster.
Gone was its desire to chase a goal, to follow a direction, replaced by a desire to be anything, for anyone. The figure feared looking back, for who knew what it would see—which hooklike claws would reach out, pulling it back from where it came?
There was no time to stop. To consider the path. To wonder if meaning would be found at its end.
Have you lost your way?
I advised my friend to follow his own path, to build a life of meaning, but I didn’t do so myself. I didn’t know what it would look like. I had the right idea, yet I lost track.
I still don’t know what a life of meaning looks like. Maybe I never will. But the actions I have taken have not been conducive to finding it.
Are the actions you take conducive to finding your life of meaning?
Are you mindlessly trotting along? How are you aligning your personal interests with what you’re doing? How do you ensure your actions move you towards your goals and dreams?
What are your dreams?
The Note
The Quote
No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be - Bram Stoker
The Promote
This week, I particularly enjoyed reading Viam of The World Within and The Writer's Path expounding the magical abilities of writing, building something from nothing and surviving failure.
Great post Rasmus, your writing is getting better with the anecdotes from your personal life you're throwing in, keep it up!
It's interesting how we give others advice, but it's the advice we should also be taking ourselves. I do that all the time. Keep up the awesome work!!
The best way to experience this article is to listen to it. Is that you reading? If so your voice is so soothing.
I have lived my life on autopilot for a long time. It's funny how turning 40 really does kick off the Midlife Crisis and a person's search for meaning.