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when the goals aren’t yours

Everyone I know is struggling with something.
Stress. Loneliness. Feeling stuck.

What’s your thing?
Mine’s purpose.
And doing what I love, without fear.

But here’s the hard part.
I know the kind of people I want to talk to.
The curious ones. The builders. The ones who question things.
And I know they exist.

I’ve seen them in podcasts, books I’ve read, and posts on social media.
People who care about the same stuff. Who ask the same questions.
But they’re not in my daily life.
They’re not in my city. Not in my office.

So I write.
Not just to express, but to attract.
Hoping one day, they won’t feel so far.

I work a job with goals that don’t feel like mine.
(Hope my boss doesn’t see this. But if you are... I’m just kidding. I love spreadsheets. Can’t get enough of ‘em.)

Most days, I ask: When did I veer off my path?
But the better question is: When did I start walking someone else’s?

That’s the trap of the corporate world.
You chase things that aren’t even yours.
Promotions. Praise. Ping pong tables.
(Although I do love a good ping pong match.)

And the promotion game? It’s mostly timing.
If someone leaves, there’s a shot. If not, you wait.
And suddenly, your self-worth rides on luck.
If the timing works, you feel confident.
If it doesn’t, you feel stuck. Or broken.
But it’s not you. It’s the system.

It gives you structure. Security. A sense of purpose.
But not your purpose.

Corporate life feels fake sometimes.
Like, do you really care about this?

Maybe I’m the fake one.
Saying things I don’t mean. Playing the role.

Eventually, you wonder, is this going to be my life forever?

Because somewhere along the way, we all bend to fit.
But what if you didn’t have to?
What if you didn’t have to change who you are just to fit in?

Here’s what I’ve learned.
Being inauthentic gets harder with age.

I’ve outgrown the old version of me.
The people-pleaser.
The fake-smile-on-Zoom guy.

But when I stop pretending, people ask:
“Are you okay?”
And suddenly, I’m lying again.
Because being real at work comes with risk.
Even when they say it doesn’t.

Now, I crave creativity and expression.
Not more friends, just conversations where I can be fully myself.
Where being goofy is okay, because that’s who I am.
Where thinking deeply is encouraged, not judged.
Where questioning the status quo is seen as a strength, not a threat.

I think about the people in my life who are doing what they love.
It feels like most aren’t.
But the happy ones?
They found something that sparked curiosity and stuck with it.
No matter the pay.
No matter the perception.

That thing grounds them.
Keeps them sane.
Helps them show up.

Without it?
They’d break down. Quietly.
Because they couldn’t be expressive.

We all need an outlet.
Not for fame.
Not for money.
Just to express the real us.

Because when you don’t express, you suppress.
And suppression always finds a way out.

In your gut.
Your neck.
Your mood.
Your relationships.
The way you talk to yourself.

So here’s what I’m doing now.
Writing.
Not to impress.
Just to be honest.

This is my outlet.
Find yours.