This question has been on my mind a lot lately. Not in a negative, existential crisis kind of way, but in a how do I find purpose? kind of way. Life isn’t just about going through the motions—waking up, working, paying bills, and repeating the cycle over and over again. That’s survival, not living. And yet, for so long, I found myself doing just that. I existed, but I wasn’t truly present in my own life.

At some point, I started wondering: Is this really all there is? It’s so easy to get caught up in routines, obligations, and expectations. We move so fast, always thinking about the next thing—our next deadline, our next paycheck, our next step up the so-called ladder of success. But when do we actually stop and ask ourselves if any of this is what we want?

Taking a Step Back

Slowing down felt unnatural at first. I was so used to keeping busy, keeping distracted, keeping myself from having to sit with my own thoughts for too long. But something in me told me to take a step back and reassess.

I went to school to be an artist, but for over eight years, I barely even picked up a pencil. Art, something that once brought me joy, had become a distant memory. Somewhere along the way, I let it slip away, convincing myself that I just didn’t have time, that it wasn’t important.

Then, life threw some emotional curveballs my way. The past two years have been a lot—overwhelming, exhausting, challenging in ways I never expected. And in the middle of all of that, I found myself reaching for something familiar. I picked up my sketchbook again, almost instinctively, like my hands already knew what my mind had forgotten: that creating was a part of me, a part I had been neglecting.

That simple act—drawing again—was like reconnecting with an old friend. It didn’t solve all my problems, but it helped. It gave me a way to express what I couldn’t put into words. It reminded me of who I was before life got so noisy and complicated. And slowly, little by little, I started making space for art again.

Reconnecting With Passion

Once I started creating again, I realized how much I had missed it. Art has always been a form of therapy for me, a way to process emotions and make sense of the world. But I had spent so much time convincing myself that it wasn’t “practical” or “worthwhile” unless it was making me money. I let outside voices tell me that hobbies were a waste of time, that every passion needed to be turned into a side hustle or else it wasn’t valuable.

But the truth is, not everything has to be monetized to matter. Some things are just for us. And for me, creating is one of those things.

That realization led me to another: I needed to stop isolating myself. I had spent so much time feeling disconnected from the world, but creativity thrives in community. So I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and started meeting other artists, joining spaces where I could share my work, learn from others, and just be around people who get it. And that, too, helped.

Quitting Meta and Finding Quiet

One of the biggest changes I made was quitting Meta (Facebook, Instagram, etc.). It had become a mindless escape, a way to distract myself from everything I didn’t want to deal with. But it wasn’t fulfilling. It was just noise—endless scrolling, endless comparison, endless time wasted.

So I quit. And suddenly, everything got quiet. At first, that quiet was unsettling. I didn’t have the constant flood of updates, notifications, and distractions filling every free moment. But then I realized—this wasn’t a loss. It was a gift.

Without social media, I had time again. Time to think. Time to create. Time to just be.

We don’t realize how much of our lives get swallowed up by technology until we step away from it. Social media can be a great tool, but it can also be a trap—a way to fill the silence so we don’t have to confront the bigger questions. But I wanted to confront them. I wanted to figure out what I truly wanted out of life.

Living With Intention

So here’s the promise I’m making to myself: I am going to live with intention.

That means slowing down. That means appreciating the little things. That means allowing myself to be instead of always trying to do.

I don’t have all the answers yet. I don’t know exactly what my life’s purpose is or what path I’ll end up on. But I do know this: I want to create. I want to find joy in the small moments. I want to spend time with people who inspire me, who make me feel alive. I want to do things that make me feel something instead of just numbing out.

Maybe the purpose of life isn’t one grand, singular thing. Maybe it’s a collection of moments, choices, and experiences that make us feel like we’re truly living.

And maybe, just maybe, I’m finally on my way to figuring it out.

Embracing the Journey

Figuring out what I want from life isn’t something I can solve in a single afternoon of reflection. It’s not a checklist I can mark off or a goal I can accomplish by next Tuesday. It’s a journey — one that might take months, years, or even a lifetime. But I’m starting to understand that the beauty of life doesn’t lie in having all the answers. It’s in the search, the discovery, and the experiences along the way.

I’m giving myself permission to try things without worrying about whether they’re “productive” or “worth it” in a conventional sense. If something brings me joy, that’s reason enough. I’m allowing myself to make mistakes, to take detours, to change my mind. Life isn’t meant to be a straight path — it twists and turns, and sometimes it doubles back before leading you somewhere completely unexpected.

I’m also learning to appreciate the stillness. Without the constant noise of social media and the pressure to always be “on,” I can actually hear my own thoughts. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my skin without immediately thinking about capturing the perfect photo of it. I can savor the laughter of my loved ones without worrying if the moment is “post-worthy.” These are the moments that matter. These are the moments that make life meaningful.

And when the hard days come — because they will — I know I have the tools to face them. My sketchbook is always there, ready to catch whatever thoughts or feelings need a place to land. My community is growing, and I’m finding people who encourage and inspire me. Most importantly, I’m learning to trust myself. I may not always know what’s next, but I’m confident that I have what it takes to figure it out.

So, what is the purpose of life?

Maybe it’s not a question I’ll ever fully answer. Maybe it’s not something that needs to be answered at all. Maybe the purpose is simply to live — to wake up each day and choose curiosity over certainty, growth over comfort, and presence over distraction.

And if that’s what it means to live with intention, then I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.

Here’s to the journey — to the quiet moments, the unexpected joys, and the courage to keep exploring.

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