Because apparently just existing isn’t impressive enough anymore.

I’m 53, and I still don’t have a “purpose” in the way Instagram defines it.

But don’t worry, the internet’s full of 23-year-olds who do.

According to TikTok, if I’m not living with radiant intention, helping endangered species, and building a legacy while sipping mushroom tea in a reclaimed-wood van. I might as well just give up now.

But here’s the truth.

I’ve lived a lot of life. Loved hard. Failed harder. Raised kids. Buried friends. Built things. Broke things. Screwed up. Showed up. And somewhere in the middle of all that… I forgot to write a goddamn mission statement.

And now? I’m just tired.

Tired of being told that “purpose” is the antidote to feeling lost, when half the people preaching it are still learning how to be alone in their own heads without curating the moment (damn..sorry…that was a straight up Gen-X burn).

The Pressure to Be Profound

Purpose has become the new wellness trend.

Like collagen smoothies and journaling retreats, it’s been packaged into something aspirational, filtered, and suspiciously brandable.

Somewhere along the way, “doing what you love” got hijacked by hustle culture and spiritual bypassing. Purpose went from something deeply personal to something you can apparently buy access to through a 7-step coaching program and a discount code for infrared saunas.

I’m not against purpose. I’m against how it’s being sold.

Sometimes Love > Purpose

I’ve always been creative. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t building or drawing or gluing two random things together just to see what would happen. I took art and philosophy and economics and theology, trying to “find myself” before that became a meme. And you know what I figured out?

I had already found it.

I was doing it the whole time.

Creating isn’t just what I do. It’s how I breathe.

Not because it’s my “calling” or because some content creator said it should be monetized, but because it keeps me from disappearing.

What If You’re Already Enough?

Let’s get something straight.

You don’t need a platform or a personal brand or a TEDx talk to be valuable.

You don’t need to pivot your trauma into a business model.

You don’t need to find a purpose that makes people nod and say “Wow, that’s inspiring.”

If you are here, doing your best, showing up for people, trying to be decent, and giving a damn, you’re already serving a purpose. Even if nobody claps for it.

The Lies We Swallow

I’ve told people (especially my kids and young people I care about) that life’s about the little things.

But I’ve also scrolled Instagram for 45 minutes and then gone to bed feeling like an underachieving blob.

I’ve criticized the snake oil of anti-aging culture while secretly loving how my expensive hyaluronic acid serum feels on my skin.

I’ve said that what matters is connection and empathy, then avoided a phone call because I was emotionally tapped out.

We are walking contradictions. And that’s okay.

What’s not okay is pretending we’re not.

You Don’t Owe the World a Grand Purpose

Your value isn’t tied to your job title or your Instagram bio or how many journals you’ve filled.

You can be here, living a quiet life, doing small good things, and that can be your legacy.

You can still be figuring it out.

You can change your mind.

You can love something deeply and not want to make it your career.

We’ve been sold this lie that the only lives worth living are the ones that get turned into documentaries. But some of the most incredible people I’ve ever met will never trend or go viral. They just show up every day, kind, tired, curious, real.

And that’s enough.

So What Now?

If you’ve found your purpose and it lights you up, hell yes. Keep going my friend.

If you haven’t, or you thought you did and now it’s blurry, or if you’re wondering if maybe your “purpose” is to live a quiet life surrounded by good coffee and cats and people you love… you’re not broken. You’re human and that too sounds fucking amazing.

Purpose doesn’t always come with a logo or a LinkedIn headline.

Sometimes, it’s just being here.

Loving what you love.

Trying not to screw it up too badly.

And laughing at the absurdity of it.