When life hands you an existential crisis...buy a plane ticket?
By Laura Miller
18 months ago, I had one of those "What am I doing with my life?!?" moments.
Not one of the little moments that comes at the end of a really long week, or after a particularly stressful meeting, or even the kind that comes after I've made an extensive Pro/Con list about my job/life/priorities (Obviously, I am not in any way Type A. And I am NEVER sarcastic).
This was the kind of "What am I doing with my life?" moment that felt like it was happening on a much deeper level than the typical millennial-style crises I had previously survived. Despite having a Plan, following that Plan, correctly readjusting that Plan when one of life's many speed bumps came my way… and having the Plan eventually go the exact Way Things Are Supposed To Happen? I was feeling woefully unfulfilled.
I had the job I was good at but didn't enjoy (who likes to work?). I lived in a city with an endless supply of fun things to do but could no longer bring myself to do any of them (who has the time?). I was involved in organizations that felt important and I cared deeply about, but didn't feel as if I was doing enough (who can ever do enough?). I felt detached. I needed a change. I needed to wake the heck up and figure out what my purpose in life was while I still felt like I could change things! So I did the completely rational, totally normal thing that all 30 year-olds looking at their lives do…I put my notice in at my job, sold half of my belongings, and bought a one-way ticket to Sydney, Australia. Like I said, totally rational. Totally normal.
And totally…the best choice I have ever made.
18 months later, I find myself sitting in a room with 30 people who are just like me. We're a group of people who want to do more, see more, feel more, and most importantly? Make a difference. We all want to figure out our why. I love this! Because if I've learned anything on this weird, awesome journey of self-discovery I've been on for the past couple of years, it's that a sense of community is essential to the discovery of my why. Introspection is always difficult, but I find it really quite easy to lie to myself when I'm journaling or making my lists or rewriting my Plan. The lies I tell myself always end up falling into the same buckets as they always have. Who likes to work? Who has the time? Who can ever do enough?
But lying to my classmates? That's just not going to fly here. We're all here to find our purpose, and if I don't lay it all out and speak openly and honestly about my passions and values, I'm letting down more than myself. I'm letting down my group. And my class. And, oh god, oh no…my community. I can't do that. I won't. We're a team, and I love that about us. I mean…we're already the #bestclassever, right?
When I hopped on the plane a year and a half ago with just a backpack on my back and a huge smile on my face, I felt invincible. Finally, I was going to figure out my purpose. I was going to experience all sorts of new things and meet new people and suddenly in a flash of genius I just knew I was going to see what I was supposed to do and then do it. Which is why it was particularly surprising when 15 hours later, I was standing shoulder-to-shoulder on a bus in Beijing, a head taller than everyone around me, sobbing uncontrollably asking myself "Oh my god, NOW what am I doing with my life?". See, I wanted to find my purpose the easy way. I wanted it to come to me. I wanted to be swiping through the dating app of life experiences, swipe right on a particularly interesting idea, and voila! I had matched with my purpose. It's not quite that easy. But I was starting a sometimes hilarious, sometimes terrifying, sometimes exhausting path toward finding that purpose, and in the months that followed, I realized 3 very important things about myself:
I love an adventure. And it doesn't have to be the big "fly to the other side of the world and live out of a backpack for 3 months" type of adventure. It just has to feel like I'm doing something new, just for me.
I love people. People of all kinds. I love the angry bus drivers in a small beach town in Australia who weren't afraid to tell me exactly what I should and shouldn't do. I love the vineyard owner in New Zealand who let me work and live at the vineyard and write and share life stories with him for a month. I love the man I bumped into on a corner in Bangkok who ended up giving me the most amazing tour of the city and its temples. I even love the guy who scammed me out of $10 in Chiang Mai because the level of my stupidity was hilarious and I absolutely deserved to learn that lesson. I need people. I need that sense of community everywhere I go.
I just plain need a community. I need a place where I'm invested in its success and it's invested in mine. I need a place that I can help grow and improve and it does the same thing for me. This can come in the form of people, or a job, or a city, but it's best if it's all 3.
And suddenly…aha! The light bulb turned on!
I understood that the community piece is what I'd been missing. That level of mutual investment is irreplaceable for me. So when I truly thought about it, there was only one real solution. I had to throw my worn, dusty clothes in my backpack, call my parents back in Des Moines, and say "I'm coming home". And then I had to say to their faces when I got there, "I'm not going back to Denver. I'm staying here. Staying, staying. For good." And it was then that I saw that I had only begun to discover my purpose.
So now, a year later, sitting in this classroom with these fascinating people, digging deep into these lessons I've learned about myself and listening to the lessons they've learned in kind, is another beautiful part of this journey. We talk about our strengths, our values, our passions, our beliefs…and I'm so excited that these conversations are happening right when and where they are. I'm hearing things from new perspectives, I'm seeing new approaches, and I'm feeling really really good. Really. And then…
"So now I'd like you all to take the next 10 minutes to begin crafting your purpose statements. These don't have to be perfect, it's just a first draft, but try to work through what we've discussed today and put it on paper."
Our fantastic facilitator, Dr. Christi Hegstad throws out a completely reasonable challenge after a day of working on ourselves and Oh. My. God. I am not ready for this. I am in NO WAY ready for this. I was feeling so awesome. Very…purposeful, if you will. But committing it to paper is a totally different ballgame, and I'm not sure I know myself well enough yet to do this. Truthfully…I completely panic. I scratch down a bunch of half-statements, I cross things out, I move things around, and I hate it all. But then I see other people doing the same thing and I realize…these are the people I want to find my purpose with. These are the people who take this seriously and want to get it right. These are the people who I get to work with to improve our community. And not just now, not just during this program or this year…these are the people who I will see and know and work with for as long as I'm a part of this community. And suddenly committing to my purpose isn't so scary.
So my purpose statement? It's not perfect. It's definitely not fit for public consumption yet. Maybe I'll be brave in a couple of weeks and share it with you then. But I can't stop thinking about it. I'm constantly reworking, rewording, and re-imagining it all day long. And this is exactly what I hoped it would be for all of us, because suddenly I'm not that woman feeling stagnant asking "what am I doing with my life?", and I'm not that woman crying on a bus saying "Oh god, NOW what am I doing with my life?". I find myself saying "what do I WANT to do with my life?". Just 4 hours spent in a room filled with dedication and inspiration, and I'm asking "what do I GET to do with my life?" Purpose is a powerful thing. And hopefully this means I won't be buying any one-way tickets again. Round-trip is where it's at, because that's how I get back to my community. Des Moines, stay beautiful. I'm going to help you do it, I promise.













