Let’s get one thing straight: Feeling lost isn’t a problem. It’s a privilege.
Yes, you heard me right. That gnawing ache in your chest, the restless nights, the questions that echo in your mind—“Who am I? What am I doing? Where am I going?”—these aren’t signs of failure. They’re proof you’re alive.
The Myth of Comfort
We’re all chasing something—comfort, companionship, love, affection. But here’s the kicker: Comfort is a cage.
Think about it. You’ve been told your whole life to seek stability, to build walls around your heart, your career, your relationships. But what happens when you get there? When the walls are up, the job is secure, the partner is steady? You get bored. You feel trapped. You start wondering, “Is this it?”
That’s because life isn’t meant to be comfortable. It’s meant to expand.
The Flower and the Leash
Love, joy, peace—these aren’t things you can lock in a box. They’re like flowers. Leave them unattended, and they wither. Try to hold them too tightly, and they crumble.
Some people try to “institutionalize” these feelings—through marriage, through rituals, through dogmatic beliefs. But you can’t institutionalize life. You can’t put joy in a contract or peace in a treaty.
And yet, we keep trying. We chain ourselves to routines, to expectations, to the illusion of control. We put ourselves on leashes—metaphorical ones, sure, but leashes all the same.
And then we wonder why we feel lost.
The Seeker in You
Here’s the truth: Everyone is a seeker. Some people just settle faster than others.
You’ve got the friend who’s been in the same job for 20 years, complaining but never leaving. The cousin who stays in a toxic relationship because it’s “safe.” The neighbor who never travels because “what if something goes wrong?”
These people aren’t happy. They’re just comfortable. And comfort is the enemy of growth.
Then there’s you. You’re the one asking questions. You’re the one feeling lost. And that’s not a weakness—it’s a superpower.
The Forest of Life
Imagine you’re in a forest. You’ve wandered off the path. The trees are thick, the shadows are long, and you can’t see the sun. You start to panic. “What if I never find my way out? What if I’m stuck here forever?”
But here’s the thing: The forest isn’t the problem. Your fear is.
I’ve been lost in forests—real ones, for days. And you know what I learned? If you keep walking, you’ll find a road. If you stay calm, you’ll hear the birds. If you trust yourself, you’ll realize the forest isn’t trying to hurt you. It’s just showing you how strong you are.
Life is the same. When you feel lost, it’s not because life is cruel. It’s because life is giving you a chance to find yourself.
The Anesthetic of Certainty
We’re so afraid of being lost that we cling to anything that feels certain—a job, a relationship, a belief system. But certainty is an anesthetic. It numbs you. It keeps you small.
And here’s the irony: The more you cling, the more you suffer. Because life isn’t static. It’s a river. It’s meant to move, to change, to surprise you.
When you stop fighting the current, something magical happens. You start to float. You start to trust. You start to see that being lost isn’t the end—it’s the beginning.
The Privilege of Being Lost
Let me say it again: Feeling lost is a privilege. It means you’re not chained. It means you’re not settling. It means you’re alive.
The dog on the leash never gets lost. But it also never discovers new trails, never feels the thrill of running free, never knows what it’s like to howl at the moon.
You’re not a dog. You’re a human being. And human beings are meant to explore, to question, to grow.
So the next time you feel lost, don’t panic. Don’t rush to find the map. Just stand still for a moment. Breathe. Look around.
And then ask yourself: “What if being lost is exactly where I need to be?”