07 MIN READ · VOL. 01 · ISSUE 09 · PART I
While I appreciate 34 is too young for a mid-life crisis, I’m a Millennial, and I was raised on MTV drama. I rotate between quarterly and semiannual crises depending on where I am geographically (SAD just doesn’t hit as hard in Mexico), and a vast majority of what I call “crises” are mild to moderate self-induced inconveniences that pass within the season.
Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s dive into a near crisis-level question that seems to be hitting a lot of my friends in their 30s, 40s, 50s (to infinity, and beyond!): “How do I create a life that serves me, instead of me serving it?”
One of my girlfriends sent this text to help spur some ideas for an essay:
Little did she know, I’d had a nearly identical conversation with another friend just a few days before. And, in truth, this topic has been on my mind almost daily since I started my gap year (I’m also rebranding “layoff”).
At first thought, the answer seemed simple. If you want a more meaningful life:
Just do a quick audit of your belief systems to identify gaps between your beliefs and objective reality.
Dig into where those beliefs come from and how you reinforce them in your everyday life.
Compare those to the values you live by (assuming you’ve already done a full values audit).
Mash those two together until you find keys to a brand new car under your seat.
Take that car for a test drive as you create a plan to integrate your values into your everyday life so you can reshape your beliefs and take meaningful action toward your goals. Shit, did I mention goals? I hope you have those too.
Is it any wonder that I have seasonal to semiannual crises with that approach?
There may be truth in it. But change isn’t that simple.
So, rather than try and tackle this conversation in a single essay, we’re going to start our first series together! I’m calling it [WORKING TITLE] because — really — that’s all this is. Your life is your working title. You can call it whatever you want today and call it something new tomorrow. It’s yours to discover. It’s yours to name.
Imma be honest, I’m building the bus while I’m driving it.
Or however that saying goes.
I’ve been on my gap year since April and have lived more in six months than I have in the last decade. And when I say “lived,” I certainly don’t mean accomplished. I haven’t produced anything of value: aside from deepening friendships and meeting new people. I haven’t brushed up my resume or learned new skills: aside from emotional regulation, healthy boundaries, and self-love. I haven’t even definitely figured out how I’m going to make up for all the money I’m not making right now: I have business plans in the mix, but entrepreneurship is a risk in itself.
But I’m happier than I have ever been.
And while not being stuck in that soul-crushing 9-5 has helped, it’s not the whole story. Because, as anyone who’s spent time alone knows, your vices and dissatisfaction follow you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re working or on your dream vacation. Your state of mind dictates your experience.
“Wherever you go, there you are.” — Jon Kabat-Zinn
And trust me, my vices and dissatisfactions followed me. My appetite for progress has turned my yoga practice into a roughly 12-hour weekly commitment. I love it, and I’m also healthier than ever, but I can see it taking the place of my “work harder, do more, earn more” mentality. My drive for perfection has made starting a business an emotional rollercoaster fraught with self-doubt and sleepless nights. And my inner dialogue has been rattling off phrases from the people who have hurt me the most. It’s as if their doubts have become my doubts.
But, my time alone hasn’t been time wasted, and things are starting to change.
So, here’s the framework we’re going to follow (unless assembling the bus tells us otherwise).
During the next few weeks, we’ll talk through:
It’s not an expert’s framework, but it works for me. And I know that “framework” makes it sound formal, but it’s not. Trust me. I ran through the entire thing within the last 48 hours when I made first contact with my philosophy crush.
Long story short, I discovered a self-limiting belief that had been masquerading as a value.
I thought that I valued when people didn’t speak on a subject unless they were an expert, dutifully informed, or gave a clear disclaimer of their ignorance. And, while I formed that sentiment based on my values, it wasn’t a value. It was a belief.
I believed that people who didn’t know what they were talking about were either dumb or doomed to eternal embarrassment (I’m referring to speaking on a public scale, not to your friends). And that belief, as I uncovered, did nothing but spoil my experience. It didn’t change how other people behaved. It made me more critical than compassionate. And it stopped me from giving myself grace.
Hence, it was limiting. For me. And, in the end, it boiled down to my fear of speaking out of turn. My fear that “being wrong will confirm something shameful about [me],” to quote the Perplexity chat I pour these thoughts into. Ultimately, my belief was a protection mechanism. And, I am thrilled to say, I’m at a point in my life where I don’t need to protect myself from things I feared as a child.
So, I followed the framework and faced it head on.
Belief: I can only speak when I’m certain I’m not going to say something stupid, or when I’ve professed my ignorance to the point nobody would question it (yes, it got uncomfortable).
Values: Knowledge. Integrity. Consideration. Accountability.
Tension: My belief set a standard that made it impossible for me to express myself openly or trust in what I had to say.
See, we’re halfway through already!
Now, on to Goals → Actions → Reflection.
I set a goal to approach all my Substack-related efforts more casually. Less planning. Less research. Less time spent on things that, frankly, nobody else notices.
To kick it off, I dove into the deep end and made a ridiculous comment on my philosophy crush’s Substack. Partly because it aligned with my goal, but mostly because the idea that he may see it made my cheeks red.
Was I risking public stupidity and humiliation? By my standards, most certainly. Was I going to do it anyway? Absolutely. Game on.
Yup. I told him that I was a koala bear and that I didn’t have chlamydia. And you know what, he replied!
Now, as part of my reflection, I can laugh at myself. I can be grateful that I took a risk and got a reward rather than a restraining order. And I can take stock in the fact that making one silly comment didn’t publicly humiliate me.
I know that I haven’t rewired to a new, more aligned belief in 48 hours. It’s going to take practice. But I want to make sure we celebrate the wins along the way, because they deserve attention too.
So, that’s it. That’s the framework we’re going to follow as we tackle this season’s crisis question: “How do I create a life that serves me, instead of me serving it?”
What do you think? Are you in?
Let’s overthink this together.
Everyone has self-limiting beliefs. You may be like me, carrying around rules from childhood that have translated into new ways to fear your adult life, or you could have a newly formed belief that’s blocking more than it’s supporting.
What self-limiting belief do you want to tackle over the next few weeks?
Try to articulate it clearly. If you can name the value and contradiction (tension), great. If not, don’t worry, that’s what we’re working toward. And, for the record, that work may take more than reading these essays. But, if you’re willing to dig in, I’m willing to face it with you.
Binge-worthy content.
Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl
Programmed to Fail, Brandon Epstein
F*ck Failure, benny blanco