Walking the Cracked Bridge
Finding Meaning in a World of Infinite Choices
Life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced. Søren Kierkegaard
It’s day 28, and you know what that means—estrogen and progesterone plummet like a bomb, leaving me to ride the wave that follows. I’ve successfully kept my egg untouched, standing my ground against any invasion—a silent toast with a glass of champagne. The cost of this victory? A brief descent into melancholy and a whirlwind of second-guessing my life choices.
When I was younger, I rarely questioned why I was doing what I was doing. The path ahead of me felt like a well-paved road, laid out long before I even took my first step: kindergarten, school, university. Each milestone felt like a signpost pointing to the next. All I had to do was keep walking, no map required.
The Cracked Bridge
But then, I came to a bridge riddled with cracks, with an uncertain yet open future stretching out before me. Crossing to the other side meant moving forward, step by hesitant step, with no guarantee I’d make it safely. Looking back, the solid road behind me began to blur and fracture, as though the certainty I had relied on was an illusion all along.
Since then, I’ve found myself looking back—not to retrace my steps, but to understand what part of me brought me to where I stand today. Some might call this an identity crisis; I call it the start of a deeper reckoning.
The Gift and Burden of Time
Moments like this make me reflect on how much life has changed over time. Evolution has given humanity an extraordinary gift: the ability to live far beyond the years our ancestors could have imagined. For most of human history, reaching your 40s was an achievement. Today, thanks to medicine, technology, and societal advances, we are routinely gifted decades more.
But this abundance of time comes with an unexpected burden: existential anxiety. When life was shorter and survival more precarious, choices were few and straightforward. A life consumed with fending off hunger, disease, or immediate challenges left little room for pondering deeper questions. The focus was clear: How do I stay alive?
Today, nearly everyone encounters existential anxiety at some point in their lives—a testament to the fact that, for most of us, our basic needs are met. For some, it creeps in during quiet moments when life feels slightly off course. For others, it crashes in like a wave during periods of upheaval or self-reflection. Many try to fend it off with distractions—pleasures, routines, or outright repression—while others succumb to its weight. I’ve been accused of doing both. It’s the haunting question that surfaces when the noise of external battles subsides:
Am I living authentically—a life that feels true to who I am?
Unlike the primal question of survival, this one offers no simple answer. Yet it lingers, inviting each of us to wrestle with it in our own way.
The Turbulence of Today
Perhaps driving this whole matter is the digital age, which has unlocked infinite possibilities and given us the tools to craft lives centred around our unique potential. This is remarkable progress, granting freedoms unimaginable just generations ago.
But there’s a catch: no one teaches us how to truly know ourselves, to uncover what we want, or to understand what we might become. Suddenly, it’s up to us to figure it out—alone—even as traditional markers of success become increasingly irrelevant and unreliable. These are turbulent times—unpredictable, full of surprises, and far from the stability we once knew. Forget about the golden watch; these days, you can be let go with nothing more than a morning email.
In response, building a personal brand has emerged as the new metaphor, replacing the outdated image of being just another cog in a machine—and honestly, I love that.
Wrestling with Freedom and Anxiety
But with that shift comes a great deal of freedom—and the weight that comes with it. Søren Kierkegaard said, “Anxiety is freedom’s possibilities,” and today, this feels more relevant than ever. Freedom—the cornerstone of existentialist thought—is both exhilarating and terrifying. It gives us the power to choose, but it also burdens us with the fear of choosing wrongly. Not choosing at all? That, too, is a choice.
The paradox of freedom is that the more choices we have, the heavier its burden becomes. Each decision we make is a declaration of who we are, but every path we choose closes others. Life in this tension is anything but comfortable, yet it’s where depth and meaning are found. Avoiding choice, by contrast, leaves us trapped in endless questioning—stagnant and disconnected.
Will I regret this choice? I ask myself that all the time. I’m terrified of regret, yet no one tells you that regret is as natural to life as breathing. It’s proof that we cared.
The Invisible Force Shaping Our Choices
In trying to have everything, we risk ending up with nothing. Social media only magnifies this struggle, complicating our freedom with its endless parade of curated lives and crafted successes. Philosopher René Girard argued that much of human desire is imitative. We want what others want, not because the object is valuable, but because it’s presented as desirable by someone else.
Online, this mimicry is amplified to an almost inescapable degree. We’re bombarded with snapshots of seemingly perfect lives: the dream career, the flawless relationship, the impeccable aesthetic. Without realising it, these images evoke feelings of inadequacy and a longing for something we think we see—an ideal that may not even exist. We begin to internalise these visions as if they were our own aspirations. But are they? Are these dreams truly ours, or are they borrowed—reflections of a world dictating what to value, strive for, and become?
Beneath these surface wants often lies a deeper hunger: for connection, for meaning, for transcendence. No object or status can fully satisfy these yearnings. To uncover what we truly need, we must resist the pull of mimicry, embrace the discomfort of uncertainty, and chart a path that feels authentically ours.
Finding My Way Through the Cracks
Crossing that cracked bridge taught me something: the certainty I once relied on was never real. What matters is the courage to step forward, even when the path is unclear. The questions I face now—Am I living authentically? Am I chasing my own dreams?—are no longer burdens but guides. They remind me to pause, reflect, and choose with intention.
This is where existential anxiety becomes a gift. It’s not something to eliminate but to embrace. It reminds us of our freedom and our humanity. Regret will inevitably follow some of our choices, but perhaps that’s not something to fear. Regret is proof that we cared, that the choices we made mattered, and that we’re invested in our lives.
So, I toast again—not to untouched eggs or fleeting victories, but to the act of moving forward, pouring my potential into the places that matter most. Perhaps meaning isn’t found in the perfect choice or flawless execution, but in the courage to keep walking, cracks and all.
ADRIANA
📓 Interesthings:
Kierkegaard, The Concept of Anxiety