rambles

the age of confusion

When did it all get so confusing? I cannot say I’ve always had the answers, but it feels like I definitely had less questions. It’s funny how life turns out sometimes. When everything was at full speed and there was no moment’s rest to actually figure stuff out, life’s biggest questions were taking a back seat, silently revving in a dark corner of the mind, not in any rush to see the light of day. But when the pandemic hit and violently slammed the brakes, those thoughts came rushing to the forefront, hitting me at a deafening speed. Is this really how I want to spend my life; am I in the right place; am I happy; what the fuck am I doing with my life; am I doing it right? It seems to me that most people my age are going through the same motions. Our lives were fine, okay, good even; but at a closer inspection, were they? Was life everything we hoped for, dreamed of? Could it ever be? We all took a hard look at ourselves and our lives and put them into the perspective of a deadly pandemic: if this was it, if this is what our lives have amounted to so far, are we happy with it? We always thought we had time on our side - we are young and naive, time fixed everything and time was always there in abundance. But all of a sudden time stood still and time was stolen from us. The years of great adventures and career milestones and great loves have been turned into a confusing, very scary, mentally exhausting, boring time. Have we done enough with our lives so far that if this was it we would be okay, even happy with it? Is work all there is to life and if not, what is it - is love all we need and how are we supposed to live our best lives and travel and do cool shit if we are stuck in an office from 9 to 5 every weekday? It’s an avalanche of thoughts that have been circling my mind for a while now and I don’t think I’m getting any closer to the truth. It’s a confusing time. It makes me want to shut down and just leave all the questions, aspirations, dreams and expectations to a dark corner again and just let my life be run by routine and convenience. But that feeling is short-lived and even while typing this I could feel my body tense and reject that one small little thought. Aaaand I’m back to square 1. The only thing that helps me in moments like this are good pieces of writing or music that can make me feel less alone. Whenever I feel this overwhelming, repetitve feeling I always go back to this scene from Fleabag - the confessional one, right before the entire ‘kneel’ situation - to her monologue: I want somebody to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat; what to like, what to hate, what to rage about; what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets, for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want somebody to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for and who to love and how to tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong. I know that scientifically nothing that I do makes any difference in the end anyway, I’m still scared why am I still scared? And every time I watch it, it resonates with me even more. Sometimes the confusion, uncertainty and panic take over my entire being and the only thing I want to happen is for somebody else to make my decisions; from the minute ones to the big life-changing ones; because the onus won’t be on me anymore, the pressure of making the right choice will lift. These lyrics from Lorde’s song Stoned at the Nail Salon that hit me right in my stomach when I hear them: Got a wishbone drying on the windowsill in my kitchen Just in case I wake up and I realise I’ve chosen wrong. Is this our biggest fear right now? Choosing wrong? Not living life right? Is there even such a thing as a right choice? Are we all having an existential crisis? I guess this is bound to happen after a global pandemic and all the other fucked up stuff happening around us, but it’s still nerve-wrecking. The thing about confusion is that you can get stuck in a rut, paralysed to make any decision, to make any small choice because you’re crippled with this fear, with the possibility of making your confusion even bigger and brighter than it is. But in my most lucid moments I can see things a bit more clearly. There is no such thing as the right way of living. Every choice we make, every mistake, every random thought is exactly what we make of it: every mistake is a lesson, every thought can lead to a great idea and every choice can be a small exciting moment; if only we would be a bit easier on ourselves and have a bit more faith in our abilities. Easier said than done, I know. It’s really hard to be content with what you have in the moment and I think this is what I struggle with the most. But as cheesy as it is, that’s literally all we have and if the last few years have taught us anything is that the present moment is the only certainty we have - even the next minute can be as uncertain as next year. This confusion will never leave me, I think it will follow me my entire life and that’s okay - it makes me ask questions, progress and keep moving; but from time to time I hope I can have more answers than questions - not right now but maybe soon?