Last updated on May 18th, 2026 at 06:13 pm
I often consider the importance of awareness. Why do we offer options, why do we speak of choice or an alternative lifestyle when we all know that our choices are limited and our life here in society has been predestined? Go to school, get a job, get married, buy a house, have children, and retire—these are the things we ought to aspire to.
Lately, I’ve been feeling underwhelmed, grossly disappointed, by nothing in particular, but just the whole concept/meaning/purpose attached to existence. I myself have achieved some of these predestined milestones. I have completed my master’s, I have had a series of jobs (let’s not talk about my inability to hold down one for more than a year and a few months), I’m not married, but I have been in a long-term relationship for more than five years now. They all felt like the right thing to do.
I’m thirty, I’ve had enough time to “achieve” them. What do you do with all that time when these conventional milestones are waiting to be attained? Of course, there are other things to do (like simply existing), but not if you don’t have the awareness or, dare I say, the privilege to think differently. This is not the subject of discourse here, but did you know that parenthood can tear friendships apart? It’s more like, what do we discuss? It gets boring. The performance of roles peaks, at least for the sake of the children.
After attaining some of these milestones, I thought, “This is it?” I think parents get boring too, and become very serious. Not all parents, for sure. Many parents are playful, remain playful actually. But can you blame parents? It’s such a huge responsibility to have another human to look out for, one who is completely dependent on you. And for many parents, it’s not one but two, or three, or four, or even five humans. One day, you have a baby, then a toddler, then a prepubescent, a teenager, a young adult, and you have to become a grandparent, years of endless service.
Life is underwhelming. But it’s also like, what are you gonna do? And this is like a free pass to make my own meaning or to do things that I consider “whelming” enough for me. I feel like I’ve done enough of the conventional things to know that they leave me disgruntled. It’s not just in the amount of work required to achieve these things, it’s also the fact that we (or speaking for myself, I) have been sold the idea that achieving these things can lead to more fulfilment—the ultimate fulfillment, complete satisfaction in life. It’s something about how we look forward to them, the anticipation of when, a perfect picture painted in one’s mind.
If after you get a job, you don’t feel that deep joy, then you only need your dream job. Or dream home. Oh, the last thing is your dream man, and that’s all. After achieving all of these, including your wonderful dream kids (the little mini mes, the legacy), you live happily ever after. Only that in real life, you don’t. It’s no wonder that I am absolutely disappointed enough to refuse to continue trying. I think it’s pure deceit. It seems harmless, sure it is, but also, just wait and see people’s reactions when you show disinterest. Then it feels less innocuous.
I’ve been putting off writing throughout the week. It’s there in my to-do list, yet, at the end of the day, it’s still undone. Maybe I don’t know how to talk about this. So what’s the alternative route for me if I say that these things that should make me happy just leave me stressed and out of touch with myself? What then is the alternative? To be clear, there’s no villain and victim here as we all hold up these structures, passively or actively, directly or indirectly. The struggle to attach meaning to life is a major stressor, and it’s hard to comprehend when some do not want to attach the same meaning (or lack of) that we do.
I clocked thirty this year, and contrary to the feeling of being old and useless and wilted, as a child-free and unconventionally married woman, I feel normal. The age sounds big and I can hardly believe that ol little Yetunde who was once excited to be 15, then 18, then 20, is now 30! Which means that if I stay alive, I can be 80, 90…maybe even 100. Big, big age. Yet somehow, I feel the need to remind myself of this age so I can remember to make decisions that really count for my future. It sounds good, but it’s almost as if my time is almost up and I must now decide.
I must now decide my career path because I didn’t have the privilege of discovering anything related in my twenties, or let’s say, I didn’t discover anything concrete other than that money has to be made. I must now start eating well (thankfully, the importance of that interested me enough in my twenties), I must now decide my fashion style, and decide this and that: essentially, how I want to live and be. The alternative is a privilege. Awareness of these alternatives is a privilege. Being able to act on these choices is also a privilege.
It’s as simple as sometimes “FOMO”. What do I lose out on by choosing this path? The less-travelled path. Many times, there is just no means. Getting married is a function of survival and autonomy, even if minimal, for many. Now that I know that I can try other routes, what do I do about it? What do I do with this information? How do I go out and there and do whatever I want? So, in this age and decade of feeling the need to decide, decisions don’t feel that easy. Yet, I have enough data to know that certain decisions aren’t for me.
We struggle so much with these things as if they matter. But deep down, what we all want is freedom. To find the freedom that comes with fulfillment. I can’t speak for everyone, though. But we make a lot of fuss about how and who to be, as if there’s one way to be. When my grandpa was 83, I asked him about his friends, and he said many of the ones he was in contact with were late. I said so; if he doesn’t, he will be 85, then 87, and he’ll keep growing, though his friends and some of his wives (two of five) were late at the time. He died the following year at 84. After hitting all these milestones, I think, what’s next? Waiting until death comes?
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I woke up too early this morning after a funny dream. After unsuccessfully trying to go back to sleep (though I am sleepy), I get up. Online, I see pictures of families: father, mother, and kids, all bearing the same surname. Men hit the jackpot. One moment, it’s only you, then you supposedly fall in love, and you have four people under your name. Like a growing business. These picture-perfect moments are everywhere online. For anyone who thinks that they need more from life, such pictures are there like flags, waving, and saying, “Here, here.“
Awareness sometimes feels annoying. I see the privilege that comes with it, and the cost implication (not monetary) of even trying. Still, I see that awareness is a gift and not a burden. It shows the possibilities that one would probably have never considered. It creates a fertile soil, a world where you conceive of every available option. Awareness normalises things that are typically unheard of. There are things we do because we don’t see a choice. You don’t know that you could just choose not to do them.
I find that the things that are “whelming” for me are really easy to obtain. This means that rather than spending quality years of my life trying to obtain a degree because I feel like it is what I’m supposed to do and in hopes of bringing me fulfillment, only to get disappointed and stressed, I can spend only thirty minutes staring at the sky and feel fulfilled. I can take a walk and have my whole life and feelings sorted out; it’s like the atmosphere absorbs some of the worries.
The factor that makes the difference is time (assuming all my basic needs plus some wants are duly sorted). All I need is to make the time available for me to do these things. So when I ask myself, “What am I doing here?” or “Is this all?” after finally getting the master’s certificate I worked hard for, or the job I prayed for and desired, I can really answer myself. I’m grateful for the privilege to have these things, but I don’t think I can say that they are the things that make me sated. For more than five years, I have been writing about this, in every word and on different platforms, I don’t want to kowtow to the conventional script.
I’d like to think that I have enough data to be able to tell the things that can make life feel worthwhile. At some point, I think I forgot how to be joyful and in a state of gratitude. My struggle was access to the tools required to be in this state of flow, and that’s how I know that the ability to choose an alternate lifestyle is also a privilege. Yet, it feels like an insult, a betrayal even, to myself to know and not apply. To give up so very easily because the route I am trying to carve for myself seems tedious (in terms of availability of resources), lonely, and uncertain (due to insufficient and biased data).
How can I know and act like I don’t? Maybe awareness is indeed a burden, an imposition, a demand, a challenge: “Now you know, so what are you going to do about it?”
