Maybe We Weren’t Meant To Do This Alone
I often find life to be overwhelming.
And before you judge because I do not have kids or a spouse or any problems that are not considered first world ones, let me say this—you are right.
And yet, I still find life to be overwhelming sometimes.
Honestly, I find all the suggestions about how I should move through life overwhelming too.
Prioritize your sleep.
Work out. Even if it’s just 30 minutes a day—which of course does not account for the time it takes to get ready for said workout or clean off after said workout.
Eat right when you wake up.
Drink water before coffee.
Eat your weight in protein.
Save money.
Take an everything shower.
Stop eating 3 hours before bed.
Meal prep.
Read—even if it’s just 15 minutes a day.
Turn your phone off an hour before bed. Don’t look at your phone for an hour after you wake up.
Get in 10K steps, so you definitely need a watch to track that.
Drink electrolytes.
Replace your toothbrush every month.
Wash your sheets every week.
Deep clean your house once a week.
Put your laundry away immediately.
Check in on your friends.
Hang out with your friends.
Keep an organized calendar to help with stress—which ironically stresses me out.
Go to your physicals.
Your dentist.
Get your vision checked.
Get your prescriptions refilled.
Pay your bills on time.
Cut out toxic people.
Make sure everyone has your back at all times or cut them off.
Do not be toxic…ever.
Work hard.
Don’t call out.
Be on time.
Spend a sufficient amount of time with family.
Be present.
And somehow make it all look easy.
Because this is the absolute bare minimum.
You do not get credit for this.
This is simply the threshold of adulthood.
The expectation.
You will receive no accolades for meeting the expectation.
None.
But you will be criticized if you fail to meet it.
Because our ancestors had it harder.
Your friends have it harder.
People in other countries have it harder.
So do not talk about how hard life feels because someone will immediately remind you how much harder theirs is.
You
Will
Be
Shamed
For struggling to meet what feels like the minimum requirement for existing.
And some people seem to do this effortlessly.
They really do.
Maybe adulting is easier for some people than others.
Adulting for me…is exhausting.
It’s relentless.
Every single day I have to be an adult.
Ew.
My most carefree moments are usually with the kids at work.
They remind me not to take life so seriously.
To enjoy a good game of tag every now and then.
That a hug really can put you back together.
That jokes are supposed to be dumb and you are supposed to laugh anyway.
That food is meant to be enjoyed and not constantly monitored.
That feelings are supposed to be fully felt before they pass…or maybe so they actually can pass.
That having fun matters too.
That not everything needs to be analyzed to death because honestly, we cannot control much anyway.
And I am thankful I have a job that reminds me of this constantly.
And yet, I forget just as often.
Because adulting is always right there reminding you that you are either failing…or simply meeting the minimum requirement.
And if you chose this life—the marriage, the children, the job, the house, the responsibilities—then you definitely are not allowed to complain about it.
Right?
Wrong.
Life is hard.
And I do not think we were meant to do it alone.
I listened to a TikTok recently talking about how modern life is built around doing everything independently.
We used to help each other move.
Now there are moving companies.
We used to drive people to the airport.
Now there’s Uber.
And listen, these things are convenient. I use them too.
But somewhere along the way, convenience started replacing community.
Because now we do not have to “burden” anyone.
And that word matters.
Burden.
Because I think many of us secretly walk around believing that is what we are.
A burden.
And ironically, all this convenience seems to have made us lonelier.
More independent.
More isolated.
More afraid to actually need people.
I am extremely independent.
I do not like asking for help.
Like…ever.
I prefer to move through life alone.
I want my friends and family around for fun and good times, but I would rather not ask them for help or let them see my pain.
This has been an issue for me for years.
But there have been seasons where I have had no choice.
Times I needed help moving.
Needed rides.
Needed someone to sit with me through heartbreak or grief or exhaustion.
Times people showed up for me even when I did not ask them to.
And I cannot sit here and say I enjoy needing people.
But I also cannot deny what it does to me when someone helps me anyway.
Because every single time someone helps me, it chips away at this belief that I am too much.
Too needy.
Too inconvenient.
Too burdensome to love well.
And every single time someone shows up anyway, it heals something in me.
It grows my heart too.
For them.
For people in general.
It reminds me that maybe community is actually how this whole thing was supposed to work.
Maybe the goal was never to become so self-sufficient that we never need anyone.
Maybe the goal was always connection.
Ironically, the things that will probably keep me healthiest in life are not just the protein or the workouts or the step count or the sleep schedule.
Sure, those things help.
But I think what will actually keep me living is relationship.
Helping people.
Letting people help me.
Being known.
Being supported.
Being loved in practical ways.
Community.
Maybe surviving adulthood was never supposed to be an individual sport.
Maybe we were always supposed to carry each other a little.
Keep Reading
“Repair” — On second chances, friendship, and the surprising strength that can come after relational fractures.
“Authenticity” — On jealousy, insecurity, and the gap between who we are and who we want to be.
“The Risk of Being Seen” — On vulnerability, misunderstanding, and the cost of speaking honestly.
