Purpose

I often struggle with purpose.

The question of who am I crosses my mind frequently. People tell me that everyone my age passionately processes this question. This stage in life is marked with this question, but I still get frustrated. Maybe I've been running into this brick wall because I thought I had my dream life all figured out. 

When I was younger I thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like. I was going to go to a prestigious university and become a doctor and help save the world. I was going to travel to exotic places and see all the wonders of the planet. Obviously I would get married and have kids and balance everything perfectly. 

Those big dreams kept the fight in my heart. Those big dreams pushed me to survive. My rich fantasy life distracted me from the pain that was very real in my heart. The hope of a future kept me afloat in a sea of unpredictability. 

My fantasy life hasn't come to fruition, and I'm okay with that, but sometimes I feel as if I am tumbling headfirst into a rabbit hole. During the last several years I have developed this severe, ironclad construct in my mind that doesn't allow for any flexibility. There is this cage of unrealistic expectations and judgments that keeps me trapped.

The battle to know who I am and where I fit in the world pulls my heart and my head in this constant tension. It's a fight and it is exhausting. I've been trapped in this struggle for so long, and I've developed some bad habits. I berate myself for making mistakes and am self-critical which just gets me more tangled up in the trap.

The only way to become free from this trap of unrealistic expectations is stillness. I have the choice every hour to keep scrambling for answers or breathe deeply and rest in the Truth that resides deep within my heart. I've developed the habit of scrambling feverishly and fighting the gifts I've been given.

I have the choice to cower in shame and regret or to stand up and walk into the freedom of new beginnings. I can remain in the trap of constantly asking "who am I?" and keep a tight fist on the childhood fantasies I painted for myself.

I don't want my broken dreams to define me,  just as much as I don't want my anxiety about the future to hold me back. I trust that when I am still and keep my hands open that purpose that I desperately seek will become clearer.