Thought on Giving up

Lately, one recurring thought has been circling my mind: I want to give up.

I’m not entirely sure what I mean by that. I’m a 35-year-old single woman who has already given up so much—a home, belongings, a job, friends, and family. I packed a suitcase and left everything behind, hoping to find myself. I thought that by detaching from everyone and everything, I’d discover a cooler, better, more successful version of myself. Someone unburdened by the restrictions of my old life.

But here I am, a person with nothing, a blank canvas waiting to be redesigned. And yet, the thought that keeps echoing in my mind is: I want to give up.

Give up on what?

At the beginning of the year, I felt a wave of courage. I decided to stop working, spend the money I’d saved, and travel the world. I left my problems behind in cold Germany, seeking comfort in places where the sun embraces you every day. And so, I left.

I traveled a lot in my 20s, back when I was a student and my parents supported my adventures. They hoped I’d find myself and be ready to settle down by 30—at the latest. At first, I was excited to leave again, longing for that carefree feeling of simply enjoying life. But then it hit me: my parents aren’t supporting me anymore. The money I’ve saved has a limit, and I have no idea how long this journey of self-discovery will take.

When I left, I was uncharacteristically nervous. And when I arrived at my destination, alone with my thoughts, an emotion I usually avoid crept in: anxiety.

I’m trying to find a better version of myself, but what if there isn’t one? Like everyone, I have my issues, and I’ve always blamed them on my upbringing and my family. But what if I’m actually the best version of myself when I’m around them? What if I’m nothing without the very things I complain about—the things I thought were holding me back?

What if I just have nothing to offer?

So, what do I want to give up on? Life?

No… that’s not me. I’m the type who can reach a point where I have no motivation to get out of bed, where I feel like the biggest loser, where I shut myself off from the world and cry while staring at the ceiling. But even then, I’d still choose to be alive.

No one said life was easy, right? Life is annoyingly hard. Finding your place in the world is like climbing Mount Everest—a lot of people try, some reach the top, and others give up or don’t make it. But you either take the risk or stay at the bottom, wondering what the view is like from the summit.