Sometimes its 2am and you get the urge to drive, and just drive until you’re as physically lost as you feel.
I used to think that being lost meant that it wasn’t worth being found. That if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing, or where you were going, or even what was best for you — then it wasn’t worth trying.
Being lost was the last thing I wanted, those around me were well on their way to achieving a life they already had planned, getting into pre-med courses at great universities, getting into international exchange programs, moving in with their partners, setting up businesses, even having kids. Then here was little old I, two years younger than everyone else in my year, with no idea what I wanted. That lost feeling ate at me to a point where I didn’t even feel like me, let alone a me who was on their way to achieving life goals.
Being lost lead to tears, screaming matches, therapy bills, anti-depressants, uneven serotonin levels, running away, failing school, and a whole lot of black clothes that showed the world just how angry I was. Oh, existential angst.
Four years later and I’m still lost.
But I live in a shiny new city. I discovered that studying at university isn’t where I want to be right now, and I’m still unsure of what I’m passionate about. And that’s okay.
We have two options when it comes to being confused about what we want from life: we can let it get to us, we can stress, and we can let it destroy any ability we had of even remotely working out our lives. Or, we can embrace it and learn in baby steps where we need, and want, to be.
I wish I were someone who knew exactly what they wanted from life and knew exactly how to get it. But I’m not, and I’m learning to embrace that. I’ll figure it out eventually. But for now, I’m driving at 2am.