The light turned off by itself. I looked around, slightly rolled my chair backwards and there was light again. I had been so focused on my work that I had barely moved. The “intelligent” light system, always wary of the cost-efficiency that justifies its existence, concluded the room was empty and turned the lights off.
I understood that for a second, I had disappeared; I had literally melted with the office furniture. What for a child would be a superpower felt like a great source of anxiety for my adult self. At that precise moment I thought- this is it, I need to change jobs, I need to move. If you don’t move, you don’t exist.
Ever since that thought crossed my mind everything acquired a new meaning. Days became “another day”- another morning against the clock, another commute, Grand Central again, Midtown again, office again, lights that turn off by themselves again. Waiting for the train after a Broadway show I thought to myself, “in some hours I will be here again on my way to work”- I had a sinking feeling.
It is interesting how sometimes one aspect of your life just takes over. In this case, it is the job, but it could be anything: a breakup, divorce, kids leaving to go to college…literally anything can make one feel that life is void of meaning or purpose. Phrases like “I don’t know what I am doing with my life” start sounding like a broken record in your head.
What changed? I look back. Little has changed. Before days became “another day” I would just wake up thinking about something else, the dinner I was having with friends, the Muay Thai class I was going to, the mountain of laundry screaming for my attention. Going to work was not something I would think about because I was distracted doing other things, as John Lennon put it,
Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans.
John Lennon
That was precisely what I was doing, making other plans. In hindsight, two factors may have triggered this feeling: time and the pandemic. Have you ever noticed how different time feels when you are in a new environment? When everything is new, when one walks the streets of another city, all senses are stimulated. We pay more attention to our surroundings, where we are, where we are going, what things look like, etc. But take the same route every day and you will see how oblivious you are to everything around you. Maybe this is because the brain needs to enter a saving-energy mode, but the result is the same: we start going about life running on automatic pilot.
Years can go by living like this, and it takes an extraordinary event to make us pause and think. To me- and I don’t feel I am the only one- this was the pandemic. The forced and abrupt pressing of the stop button along with the daily count of deaths was a harsh reminder of how fragile life is, both ours and that of others. We are here and the next minute we are no more. It seems inevitably to pause and think: what are you doing with your life?
Quarter-life crisis, mid-life crisis and maybe a new category will be added soon- pandemic crisis. Undoubtedly I am not the only one going through a moment of pause and reflection. Stories of life changes are common out there and an interesting read when one doesn’t know what to do.
Reading the stories of others, this is what I have noticed:
- There are those who manage to turn crisis into real opportunities and introduce changes that truly transform them into a better version of themselves.
- Others don’t do anything, but change their perception about their problems. It is a very stoic attitude towards life, as Marcus Aurelius said,
External things are not the problem. It’s your assessment of them. Which you can erase right now.” — Marcus Aurelius
- Finally, there are those who do nothing. Sometimes it is paralysis by analysis- constantly weighing pros and cons can make it difficult to decide. As a result some may be bitter about it later in life, and regret not having dared to do something different. But it is also true that others manage to find alternative sources of happiness, come to terms with their past decisions and end up feeling quite content.
So far I cannot tell you what my path will look like, but herein lies both the beauty and challenge of choice: whatever it will be, my path is my own and my own only.
