I probably have around 10 tabs open on my laptop at all times. As I write this, I have a record low of eight: today’s Wordle (3/6 — great starting word), a 30-page reading for class, a video essay on Kafkaesque, LinkedIn, a guide on simple living, Outlook, an assignment that was due last week and an article on high protein vegetarian recipes that I will never look at again. Each tab feels like a microcosm of the chaos in my life.
As I scroll through each of these tabs, I can actively feel the impending doom creep up on me.
I’m entering a horrifying job market after graduation; I need to eat healthier; my vocabulary is awful and I need to read more; how on Earth did he get that job; I want to live in a commune in the mountains; do I actually understand The Metamorphosis?
Eventually, I realize I’m a bit dramatic and I close the entire window.
Life has been pretty monotonous these days. I get up and lay in bed just to scroll through Instagram on my phone’s browser because, in my head, it’s not cheating if I don’t have the app (I really need to deactivate my account). I read a few pages of a book that I really don’t understand, and then I muster up the stamina to get ready just to make an exhaustive and unrealistic list of things I need to do for the day.
My day is spent floating through classes and meetings and conversations and responsibilities. I get home, make dinner, try to do work with my roommates even though 9 times out of ten, nothing ever gets done. And then comes my favorite part of the day: the few moments I daydream about all I want from life.
I once read that telling people about the things you want to accomplish or do causes some sort of dopamine release in the brain and should be avoided because it leads to a lack of action since you experience the high of potentially reaching those goals. I’m not sure how much I agree, this sort of thought process just feels like a recipe for Western individualism. Regardless, it’s something I’ve (unfortunately?) adopted in my own life so the few moments I devoted to thinking about my future are very personal and in some ways very intimate.
I’m fairly certain that I know what direction I want my life to be going in, but ever so often I have a surge of fear that it’s just a path I have been conditioned to want to take. We’ve grown up believing we can do everything, and now we’re paralyzed by choice, afraid to commit to one path in case it shuts out the rest.
I’m passionate about a lot of things: education, journalism, advocacy, art, writing, medicine, music, community-building and culture. And I just hate that I feel like I need to choose one. I think (or maybe I hope) this is a problem for other people our age, that you want to live a life of abundance that encapsulates all the things that bring you joy. Choosing one path or more so one career feels paradoxical to what our generation has pushed since we were children.
Even more than the idea of choosing one, I am overwhelmed by the idea that there is nothing I can’t do and there are too many options. I yearn for knowledge and connection and adventure. I want to love my job, explore the world, spend time with people I cherish, continuously learn and grow and honor my promise to a career of service devoted to my community.
Despite the fear of aging we commonly see online, I’m excited to get old and think about all I have done and all I’ve lived for, even if it currently feels a bit terrifying.
I guess there isn’t really a solution to this feeling, but maybe there doesn’t need to be. I’ve found comfort in focusing on one thing at a time. Recently, I explored jazz and community events, which felt meaningful. Now, I’m putting more energy into writing.
That has to be enough — moving from one interest to the next and learning to live with the discomfort of not knowing. I don’t have to have it all figured out, and that’s starting to feel normal. I’ll keep opening tabs and closing them when I need to, trusting I’ll end up where I’m supposed to be.
Aashi Mendpara is a senior from Orlando, Fla. majoring in Neuroscience and Medicine, Science and the Humanities. Her column shares reflections on her childhood, growing relationships, getting older and navigating life’s changes.
