The Worth of Me
For millennia we have pondered on the deceptively simple question of "What is it all for?". Some have claimed to find the answer, while others say there isn't one at all. We are here because of complete happenstance with no purpose to anything, or we are here as an act of divine intervention with a pre-determined path to follow in accordance with an unknown plan. I find people sit with the one that brings them the most comfort, at least for the majority of the time. Lately, however, I haven't been able to find comfort in any answer.
Since childhood I have had a fascination with History and Science, particularly the latter. Exploration and discovery fuelled by a underlined narrative; we discovered X, Y, and Z, but how did we get there? How did we even get to X? Who discovered A, and then who thought to look for B? The simple, almost comical question of "Well what weirdo thought to milk a cow and drink it themselves?!" and archaeologists finding fat deposits on pottery shards that suggest we've been enjoying cheese since the Neolithic era. We have been curious since Sahelanthropus tchadensis, since sarcopterygians, since LUCA. It's in our blood, and always has been.
I was the "but why" child, much to the annoyance of anyone responsible for taking care of me at the time. Teachers appreciated my curiosity at first, but eventually it would turn into being labelled as "combative" and "difficult" when all I really wanted was to understand why I was being asked to do what I was being asked to do. Even now, this is an issue for me. I don't have an problem with the tasks, per say, I just want to understand why they're required. I have since learned that, apparently, this is one of many painfully obvious facets of autism that I display. How no one picked up on it is beyond me; Not to say that being curious is reserved specifically for autistic individuals, though I will argue that we are pretty damn good at it. Luckily enough for me, I have a job where curiosity is needed and thus my Manager appreciates it.
I have to admit, however, that I am also among the list of people who find this trait annoying. Sometimes I am just not satisfied, which usually happens when the only answer left is "We just don't know". Why don't we know. I want to know. I recognise that the truth of it isn't that simple; some things we just don't know yet, and others we probably never will. The vastness of the universe & where it ends, if it even does. What life even is. Comprehension of consciousness. It's a vicious cycle honestly, because the more I ponder the more terrified I become, yet still I yearn for an answer. The fear of nothing, and the challenge of what if.
On a simple, more selfish level, what about me? What am I here for? What should I be doing and who should I be doing it with? Am I wasting my time? How much time do I even have? Is what I'm doing now what I am meant for? Then again, what are any of us meant for? Where do we find our worth and who defines it? Can worth even be defined?
Some people say "Life is for living", and when asked to define what living is will say "Whatever makes you happiest" which is logical in sense; I doubt anyone truly wants to be living in misery. I do my best to be happy. I have had a fair amount of people describe me as an optimist, when a few years ago that would not have been the case. I wouldn't call my journey with depression a traditional one, and I am very fortunate to be where I am now, but I personally wouldn't describe myself as optimistic. More… "It will be what it shall be" tinged with a hint of pessimism, as what I truly mean to say is "I have learned not to expect good things, so if I accept that it could be bad I shan't be disappointed if it is."
Is that realism or pessimism? I'm not quite sure, honestly. I'm sure it stinks of Childhood Trauma. IYKYK.
So what is worth? How do I define that in myself? I think that's really what I've been struggling with lately. I used to find a lot of my worth in the artwork commissions I used to do, the brand I fostered in my old Community Manager role, and the friendship groups I once had. Only fairly recently have I released that a lot of what I marked as my own self-worth was simply whatever I could offer anyone else. Artwork, brand loyalty, and companionship; companionship more often than not meaning my role was simply to comfort, but to never be comforted. I existed when it was convenient, and was not someone to be remembered or thought about. Again, this is apparently another autistic trait. Something about being fiercely loyal to the point of being naive, and people taking advantage of that.
I've struggled to create anything just for me. I stepped back from the Manager role as I felt I was being misused and underappreciated. I have no remaining friend groups because of the above realisation. I am grateful for my partner in all of this, though I can't help but feel bittersweet about their support. Is that not finding worth in yet another thing that is not myself? It's sad, really, but I feel rather hollow. I'm not quite sure who I am supposed to be or what I should be doing.
It's bizarre. I feel as though I am piloting the body and mind of a complete stranger.
I can't help but feel this might be fuelled by turning 30 as some sort of mid-midlife crisis, maybe… Though, as I've said, I'm sure everyone goes through this at least once in their life.
"What is it all for?"
I'll let you when I figure out what answer works best for me.
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