Man, sometimes you just feel like something’s missing, right? Like you’re going through the motions, doing all the right stuff, hitting all the marks everyone says you should hit, but there’s still this nagging little empty space inside. That was me for a long, long time. I was out there, working my butt off, trying to climb whatever ladder was in front of me. I pushed, I networked, I stayed late, I did all the extra stuff, thinking that reaching the next rung, getting that next title, pulling in that extra cash – that was the ticket. That was going to be it. That was going to be happiness.
I started off with a bang, fresh out of college, thinking I knew it all. I grabbed the first decent-paying gig that came my way, diving headfirst into the grind. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to make my parents proud. I wanted that shiny future everyone talks about. So, I put my head down and churned. I’d wake up, commute, sit through endless meetings, stare at screens until my eyes burned, grab a quick bite, then back at it. Weekends often bled into workdays. I convinced myself this was just “paying my dues.”
After a few years of that, I actually started seeing some results. I got a raise here, a promotion there. My apartment got a little nicer, my clothes fit a bit better. On paper, things were looking up. But inside? Still that same dull ache. I’d look around at people who seemed genuinely content, laughing easily, truly enjoying their off-time, and I just… didn’t get it. I’d try to force it, mind you. I’d sign up for a new hobby, hit the gym extra hard, try to socialize more. But it always felt like another item on a to-do list, another thing I should be doing to be happy, not something that made me happy.
I distinctly remember one particularly brutal quarter. We had a huge project, deadlines closing in, everyone stressed to the max. I pulled crazy hours, barely slept, lived on coffee and takeout. When we finally launched it, and it was a success, I felt… nothing. Just exhaustion. No rush of pride, no sense of accomplishment. Just a profound emptiness and the thought, “Okay, what’s next?” That was a real gut punch. It made me stop cold and really look at things.
Hitting a Wall and Changing Course
That feeling of ‘what’s next’ but with zero excitement became my breaking point. I started pulling back, very slowly at first. I stopped volunteering for every single extra task. I started saying ‘no’ to some of the evening calls. It felt weird, almost guilty, like I was slacking off. But I needed a breather. During that time, I picked up an old sketchbook I hadn’t touched in years. Just doodling, nothing serious, just letting my hand move. It felt… good. No pressure, no deadlines, just pure, simple creation.
Then, a buddy of mine, bless his heart, invited me on a last-minute camping trip. My first instinct was to say no, too busy, too tired. But something clicked. I actually went. We drove out to a national park, pitched a tent, built a fire. No cell service, just stars and fresh air. We talked, we laughed, we just were. I remember sitting by that fire, listening to the crackle, looking up at the sky, and feeling a genuine sense of peace I hadn’t felt in ages. It wasn’t about achieving anything; it was just about being present with good company.
That trip sparked something. I came back and started actively carving out more of those moments. I’d block out an evening each week just for myself, no work, no obligations. Sometimes I’d read, sometimes I’d just listen to music, sometimes I’d try a new recipe in the kitchen. I started spending more time with my family and friends, not just as an obligation, but because I actually wanted to hear about their lives, to share stories, to just connect. I started reaching out more, initiating those hangouts instead of waiting to be invited.
I realized I had spent so much energy chasing external validation – the job, the money, the status – that I completely neglected what truly nourished me. It wasn’t a sudden, dramatic shift overnight. It was a gradual process of discovery, of figuring out what truly brought me a sense of warmth and fulfillment. I learned to identify what drained me and what energized me. I started prioritizing the things that made my heart feel full, even if they weren’t the “productive” things on a traditional list.
I eventually made a big career switch, moving into a role that paid a little less but had a much better work-life balance and was in an area I genuinely cared about. It wasn’t about a massive leap into some fantasy life, but about making conscious choices, small adjustments, steering my own ship rather than letting it be tossed by external currents. It was about creating a life where those quiet, joyful moments weren’t just accidental happenstances, but regular, cherished parts of my everyday. That’s how I started finding my happiness, piece by piece, building my own 10 of Cups future.
