I feel super lost, as if a newborn stumbling and feeling its way on its first walk. I know this metaphor has been incorrectly romanticized my feeling of being lost. And the truth is, I have a hope while the hope is directionless.
Where am I - in my life, or say, in my course of social development? I have no idea. And I have a random pause in my rambling here. A message came through. From LinkedIn. How absurd! Someone who’s working in a field I dream of working in sends me a warm message. With curiosity and full of respect. For what do I deserve them? I have no idea as well. I know I overlooked my past, and I’m not supposed to. Or I’m not overlooking my skills, I’m just overlooking my past mindset, the view, the thinking, the world, and the rules I agreed, I applauded, I worked hard for, and contributed to. And day after day, I’ve changed. A LOT. My attitudes changed, my stance changed. I suddenly hold so much grief and sorrow. Yes, my tear is coming through. So many days in my life, I’m tortured by the realization that I’ve been arrogant, ignorantly proud, and claiming a passion without looking at what it truly does to this world. Now, my passion greyed out. I used to believe something, but now I don’t.
How can I make it up for those wasted passions, misaligned efforts, and false commitments to the world? I’m constantly thinking about it. I left a job with burnout and disappointment. And I have less motivation to pick anything up. I mean, creativity is important. Please don’t get me wrong. But knowing what I am really designing for is brutal - we design for FOMO, for manipulation, for relentless progress, for insecurity, for constant dopamine, as they are substitutes for real joy. Does any AI tool, any software, any button, any notification ever bring someone joy? With my limited experience in UX design and hundreds of designer portfolios I’ve browsed, I personally can’t give an example. From any of them. Suddenly, I feel so wrong to present myself as I used to be, someone who never thought in this way. And I retreated from my career.
I know there’s no perfect container, here I mean, a work identity, a career, to hold my sense of righteousness, my silent anger after betrayal, my questions about what the truth is. But what if it comes from, still, my limited knowledge. I am eager to know, to meet, to seek those pioneers, keeping doing a work that they believe in and that people need. I can’t help wondering where their energy comes from, and selfishly, lend some from them.
Yes, I responded to my new LinkedIn connection. She’s cool. She initiates a chat for us. A warm greeting message. That’s the first piece they pass to me, and I get inspired.
Good night, my notebook.