maintains a sense of purpose beyond just relaxing for the rest of my life.
I genuinely don't understand this cultural obsession some people have with finding their "purpose" through constant work, especially when that work is in service of someone else's bottom line.
Now, don't get me wrong, I totally get finding satisfaction in working on
your stuff. Your home, your car, your garden, your craft. That's building something tangible that reflects who you are. But deriving a deep, spiritual sense of "meaning" from answering emails, managing office politics, or hitting imaginary KPIs? That just seems like corporate cosplay with a psychological twist.
And yet, some folks seem genuinely lost without it. They retire and immediately panic. Not necessarily because their body is falling apart, but because they don't know who they are if they're not grinding for someone else. It reads like Stockholm Syndrome.
Look, I get that meaning is subjective. If your dream is to waste away at a country club working on your short game while wearing pastel polos, go nuts. That's your business. But if you're
still clocking in, still shuffling paperwork, still chasing some illusion of productivity while your joints are screaming and your spine is trying to secede from your body, that's the hill you’re dying on?
At some point, you've got to stop confusing labor with virtue. Working yourself into the grave for a sense of identity isn't noble. It's delusional. I don't think we were put on this planet to fill out spreadsheets, accept Teams meeting invites, and die tired.
If that makes sense to you and leaves you "fulfilled", great. I'll just never understand or comprehend the logic of it.