The Meaning of Life

You might’ve noticed a theme in a lot of the things I write: everything happens for a reason. Fate.

It’s an idea that gets misunderstood pretty easily. Because no, things don’t just happen to you. They can’t. You make them happen.

The other day, I was talking to my little sister. She said something like, "When all that happened to me..." and I stopped her. That didn’t just happen to you," I said. "You put yourself in the situation for it to happen."

It’s not always easy to hear, especially when it comes to the bad stuff. And sure, there are exceptions—horrible things that happen to people without any fault of their own. A toddler who gets abused. Those types of things are never the victim’s fault.

But the part that is in your control is what you do with the aftermath. How you live with it. How you make sense of it. That’s where your power starts.

Everything happens for a reason. But sometimes the “everything” is really, really bad.

It’s easy to believe in fate when life feels good—when you get the job, when you fall in love, when opportunities show up right when you need them. It’s a lot harder when you’re standing in the wreckage, trying to figure out why it had to be you.

But that’s where the actual work comes in: finding the reason anyway. Pulling a lesson out of something you didn’t want. And doing the same thing with the good moments too, instead of just riding the high, you study it. Pay attention to what worked. What choices lined up. What you can bring into whatever comes next.

The meaning of life isn't to fall in love, or build a career, or cross things off a bucket list. No, it's not even to be happy all the time or to have all the money in the world.

From what I've learned, the meaning of life is to find the lesson. Over and over again. Even when it would be easier to look away, be the victim, or let defeat take over.

I believe this to my core: The people who find the reason are the people who grow. The people who don’t, who decide to stay bitter, who keep blaming everything and everyone else, they stay stuck. They keep living the same stories over and over, wondering why nothing feels different.

Learning how to find the reason early on is probably one of the best skills I’ve ever gained. It shaped how I think: how I practice non-attachment, and how I can still find something good even in the worst moments of my life. It's the skill I'm most proud of.

And just so we're clear: this isn’t “toxic positivity.” I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel sad, or heartbroken, or angry. Feel it all. You have to. You’re supposed to.

But healing and hurting are not the same thing. The difference is what you do next.

You have to find the reason. And then you have to do something with it.

Seriously, read that again: Find the reason. Then do something with it.

You can “woe is me” your life away. You can lose your job and decide that you’re a failure. Blame your coworkers and boss. Decide that no one will ever want to work with you again, that your career is basically over.

Or you can sit with it — really sit with it — and ask yourself some hard questions:

• What choices did I make that led here?

• What feedback did I ignore?

• What could I have done differently?

• How can I show up differently next time?

Finding the reason isn’t about blaming yourself. It’s about empowering yourself to change the ending.

Here’s what that can look like in real life from my experiences:

A friendship ended badly.

⟶ Instead of blaming them or myself forever, I asked: what red flags did I ignore? Where did I abandon my own standards just to keep the peace?

Doing something with it: Now, I check in with myself more during relationships — I don't force connections that don’t feel right anymore.

I trusted someone who let me down.

⟶ Instead of assuming everyone is untrustworthy, I asked: what did I miss? Why did I give them that access?

Doing something with it: Now, I give trust slower. Not out of fear, but from discernment. Trust is earned, not handed out.

I lost something I thought I needed.

⟶ Instead of thinking life was punishing me, I looked for what was being cleared out. What space was being made?

Doing something with it: I stopped clinging so hard to timelines. I started trusting that the right things would stay; and if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t need them after all.

I made a bad decision and it hurt.

⟶ Instead of pretending it wasn’t my fault, I owned it. I asked: what mindset put me in that spot? What parts of me weren’t ready yet?

Doing something with it: I set better boundaries with myself. I learned how to pause before making impulsive choices. I gave myself grace, but I didn’t let myself off the hook.

This mindset doesn't ignore difficulties and hardships; rather, it's letting these moments--good or bad--mean something and help us grow.

You won’t always know the reason right away. Sometimes you’ll only see it months later. Sometimes it’ll take years.

But you’ll never find it if you don’t look. And you’ll never grow if you don’t use it.