who am I when I am just looping in this endless existential crisis where I’m not sure what is real and what I want to pursue anymore
Do you want to do the talking?
Ok. I reply moving in front of her and approaching the door manned by four people with two clipboards between them.
We’re just crossing names off the list, one of them tells us.
Actually, we aren’t on the list. I smile.
I am a terrible liar but excel at making the truth really fun and compelling
We were in our flat up there. I point at the top floor of a set of late Victorian-era mansion blocks overlooking where we are standing. And we saw the party and heard the band playing and decided to invite ourselves.
That’s a good one! One of them laughed in response.
The four gathered and discussed options. Finally one looks up questioningly at his compadres, Ross left two tickets at the door for her friends but we don’t think they’re coming maybe you can have them.
I know Ross! Marina exclaims.
Yeah, sure wink wink! Someone replies laughing. No really! She is my neighbour!
At this point, we’re both cracking up at how absurd it all is – two adult women attempting to crash a party. Ok, well make sure you go for a swim, they accede. We will, we brought our bikinis! I reply with a grin. We all laughed and were ushered into the Lido summer party.
We stripped into bikinis by the pool and saunaed and cold plunged and saunaed and cold plunged again until they closed the pool and got dressed and watched the live jazz and funk band and drank cheap cold white wine out of little plastic cups and danced.
It’s easy to be happy, now. I turn to Marina. I just need more of this in my life. More spontaneity, more risk, more playfulness, less rigidity.
A few hours earlier we had been lounging on her sofa overlooking the Lido in which party we were now enmeshed into talking about the happiest times in our lives and how things felt different now.
I’m fine. Everything is fine. I have incredible friendships, I have enough money and a nice place to live. Fresh food local food is abundant. I actively count my blessings and choose to see the beauty of life. But I don’t feel that euphoric feeling of love and joy and excitement for life like I used to. And that makes me sad. And maybe I am a little depressed. But mostly I feel like I am just looping in this endless existential crisis where I’m not sure what is real and what I want to pursue anymore.
I have had so many moments in the past couple of years crushed by a distinct wave of lack of ambition that sucks the oxygen out of my lungs and makes me wonder what I am doing. The flavour of this feeling is akin to my burnout climax in 2022/23 but I am starting to realise I am not burned out by my work but by the accelerating demands of the modern Western world.
In this incredibly dystopian version of capitalism we are being told more is better. We’re told to push harder, to take as much as we can from anything and anyone to get ahead. No wonder we’re left feeling lost. Deep down, this isn’t who we are as humans. We’re not built to be endless consumption machines.
Let’s have a reality check.
This “take take take” approach comes from LACK, not ABUNDANCE. It is a lack of resources. It’s a lack of abundance. The system we live in which is ‘growth at all costs’ is the antithesis of abundance.
A personal reality check.
Until 2020, I’d skillfully sidestepped this reality. Stranded in the UK after my life in Mexico, I found myself sliding down a slippery slope of overwork. The rush of financial success was intoxicating, and with little else to occupy me, I dove in headfirst.
Because what else was I to do and honestly, the taste of financial success and public validation and money flowing in so readily was addictive and fun, and what else was there to do?
And there I lost myself…
In that spontaneous pool party, we crashed, surrounded by strangers who quickly became friends, I rediscovered it. That spark was right there, effortlessly within reach. Life’s magic reveals itself in these kismet unplanned moments, when the future feels ripe with possibility and human connections bloom unexpectedly.
As the last notes from the jazz band faded, the lead guitarist approached us. I love your energy! he grinned. You brought this party to life with your dancing!
We giggled, confessing our impromptu adventure: watching from a high-up flat, deciding to crash the event, sweet-talking our way past the door.
I knew I liked you before, he laughed, but now I love you.
Abundance has a language and it’s not money. It’s relationships, health, experiences, and depth… because what we want at the depths of our souls is to be humbled.
We are drawn to experiences that humble us because they remind us of a profound truth: we are already complete. Embracing this completeness – recognising that we have, do, and are ENOUGH — is a radical act.
A quiet rebellion against a world that constantly tells us we need more.
Beneath the surface, there’s a deeper loss and longing — a profound ache — that no new job or shiny purchase could ever soothe.
What we truly crave is a foundation that is steadfast and real. We are looking for substance. We are looking for something we can place our feet on that won’t fall away.
We all have these big existential fears because we are terrified of failing at life. So we protect ourselves by contracting, fitting in, grabbing more, and trying harder.
These past few days, I’ve been retracing the steps that brought me to this trajectory of my life.
I do not like it here.
I find myself ensnared in the relentless machinery of Western capitalism, a system that’s stealthily invaded even the havens I once sought refuge in.
I feel uneasy existing in a world over-saturated with screens and social media. As someone who was once eager to vulnerably share myself without hesitation, I have begun to feel the burden of strangers’ unflinching projections and expectations.
What’s more, I have had to come to grips with the ephemeral nature of my digital presence.
Every word I’ve penned online hangs by a thread, at the mercy of faceless corporations. At any moment, they could wipe away my work and art, erasing years of my life with a simple keystroke.
I have returned to the value of physical spaces that must be balanced with a career built on a digital footprint.
At this juncture, I return to a few simple questions:
What makes me come alive?
What brings me joy?
What do I live for?
The answers come readily. They are simple and easy.
Unexpectedly, the benchmark does not keep changing. What I want is less rather than more.
But they do not fit into my society’s deemed trajectory of a ‘happy’ and ‘fulfilling’ traditional life path. That’s challenging for me, sometimes.
There exists within me a very human part that yearns for social acceptance and validation. On some level, I still fear rejection from the tribe. A tribe I have disowned many times before.