All my life I’ve felt I had a purpose for living, breathing, and taking up space on this planet – for existing. My purpose was to help other people…to provide care, support, nurturing and reassurance. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m overly sensitive and feel compelled to put others before me. I, even to this day, offer help to people when doing so could be emotionally, physically and/or financially detrimental to myself. That’s just how I’m wired. And that’s probably why I went into a healthcare profession forty years ago and poured myself into volunteerism for most of my life.
But that changed for me a few years ago when I had to go on disability. I was no longer able to work which kept me from getting my daily “fix” – the reassurance that I was here for a reason. My life became all about me: my pain, disability, cancer treatments, doctor’s appointments, and taking dozens of pills every day. I started thinking that there was no real reason left for me to live. If you don’t serve a purpose on earth it must be time to check out!
Over the many years of my existence I remember being flabbergasted repeatedly watching people go through their lives as self-centered and uncaring SOBs. What was their contribution to society, to making this world better? What was their purpose? How can they go through life like that? How can people only be concerned with themselves and their own daily existence.
But this post isn’t about them.
I haven’t worked in nearly four years and I feel a deep void in my life. I frequently offer to help friends who are having surgery, whose partners are dying of some horrible disease and to friends who “should” want my presence and comfort as they grieve the death of their partner. But every time, my offers are rebuffed. They prefer to go it alone – without me.
How dare they not want me? How dare they not validate my need to have a reason to exist? How dare they not meet my needs in their darkest days? Funny…it just hit me that although I honestly want to help, it is also about me, about stroking my ego and reassuring me that I am needed and wanted.
So, I keep searching for my purpose in life given my current age, health status and level of disability. I feel driven to do something. To uncover somehow my reason for being.
I watch YouTube videos. I listen to Podcasts. I search Google. I peruse lots of websites, fill out quizzes and surveys, and I’ve taken many online classes in an effort to identify my purpose – to justify my continued existence
So far I’m coming up blank. But, I do have hundreds of pages of shit that I’ve printed out that now take up permanent residence scattered on the empty side of my bed. And it dawned on me the other day that I keep my bed filled with papers and books to psychologically deter me from hooking up, dating or simply retraining some random boy to abuse for a couple hours. How will I ever find love if I’m not tying boys to my bed and spanking their asses?
What if there is no reason to exist?
What if we are all just like those lemmings that march forward dutifully, unsuspecting, going about our lives until we reach the cliff, and it is then our turn to fall into oblivion?
Maybe it’s time I accept that I have no purpose. I am just here by chance living in this day and time awaiting my turn…my turn to fall into nothingness.
For many years I’ve seen starving babies in far away places dying for lack of food and safe water to drink. I’ve seen men, women and children all innocent victims trying to go through life, to make a living and to find some joy and happiness being savagely murdered as pawns by sadistic overlords and brutal dictators. And, somewhat less dramatic and frightening, but closer to home, I see daily reports on the news of people trying to go through life, making plans and enjoying their lives when they are for no sensible reason murdered, killed in car accidents or burned to death in fires. And my prevailing thought is that they were born, existed, and went through their whole life only to arrive at this point – to die suddenly, horrifically and seemingly for no real reason! Was their entire life destined to be lived for that very purpose? To die tragically. To be buried and for the most part forgotten within weeks.
I think it’s time for me to stop looking for some esoteric purpose for my life and to toss all of this paper out of my bed.
Maybe my real purpose now is just to tie up submissives boys and meet both our needs sexually, physically, emotionally and spiritually by taking them through a myriad of sensations of pain and pleasure. Maybe my only real purpose in life now is to Dominate submissive boys, and their only purpose in life is their submission to my Dominance!
What do you think? Do you have a “purpose” for living, for existing? If so, tell me what you think. I’m truly interested to hear your opinion.
Thanks for reading.