Life’s Frustrations

Sometimes—if not most times—life can feel overwhelming. And in those moments, you don’t always know who to turn to. A few weeks ago, I was really going through it and told my girls that I wished I had an older friend—specifically, an older woman.

I needed the comfort and guidance of someone who could be a safe space. I emphasize safe space because it’s not like I lack older women in my life—I actually know quite a few. But I’m also familiar with how many of them think, how they act, or how they’d deliver their advice. 

Honestly, that delivery just doesn’t sit well with me. Unfortunately, many in the older generation are champions of endurance and perseverance—even in situations where, deep down, you know it’s time to let go, move on, or accept that something isn’t right for you.

More recently, I’ve found myself feeling incredibly hopeless. You know when you’re looking for the light at the end of the tunnel and it’s just… still pitch black?

Yeah.

It’s been a tearful weekend so far because I feel deeply weighed down by life, and no one around me seems able to help. That helplessness has sometimes turned into frustration—not directed at anyone in particular, but at the feeling of not knowing what to do, what to say, or who to even say it to.

I wasn’t frustrated with my friends, but I did find myself wishing I knew someone who had walked in my shoes—someone who had felt what I’m feeling now. Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m sinking into quicksand. It gets lonely when no one you love quite understands what you’re going through or how to be there for you—especially when you’re all on such different life paths and at different stages. It’s bittersweet. I don’t blame anyone around me for not being where I’m at, and I know it wouldn’t be fair to pour all of this frustration onto them. They don’t deserve that.

Mind you, I don’t even know where I’m at. All I know is I currently feel a bit burdensome talking about same issues like a broken record. I wouldn’t blame anyone if they got tired of me. I’m tired of me. So I kind of retreated into myself today, which is why my mind is running and you’re reading my thoughts. 

Being in different places in life, or not always relating to each other, doesn’t mean you need new friends. I guess this is what navigating adult friendships looks like—everyone doing their own thing, growing in their own direction, and often experiencing different milestones at different times.

But what I’m really trying to say is that life can be painfully nuanced. It’s not just about surviving hard moments—it’s about making sense of them, even when they feel senseless. It’s about wishing for wisdom, for companionship, for something steady when everything feels uncertain. It’s the ache of growing into yourself without a roadmap, of realizing that even when you’re surrounded by love, you can still feel completely alone in your experience. And maybe that’s what adulthood is: learning how to hold both the weight and the wonder of life at once, while still reaching for light—even in the dark. It’s kind of lame, especially when you think about how you’re going to be an adult for the rest of your life.