The search for authenticity in a world of performative joy

Dreams, false ideals of success, and the disillusionment of my mid-twenties

Good morning, it’s me again.

It’s a Monday in January ‘23, and I’m writing from a corner at WeWork. Being back at work after a long break feels like a cold shower on a winter morning: good for you, and your brain needs it, but you also can’t stop swearing.

I joke.

On breaks, I people-watch. I’ve come to enjoy it, actually. All of them rushing in and out, their phones glued to their hands and their eyes glazed over like they’re saving the world everyday (I like to think they might be). Busy people have always fascinated me. I used to think all busyness = f(important, successful). I’m starting to realise that busyness without a sense of direction is just plain cluelessness, and most busyness is just cluelessness in disguise.

Afternoon chai with a dash of disappointment

18-year-old-me would be disappointed that I ended up where I did. She wanted to work with startups so she would get to solve interesting problems. She wanted to do big, impactful, extraordinary things. Who’s going to tell her that most startups are beginning to resemble the corporate structures and cultures she thought she was going to escape.

“Here we are,” I thought. What do you do when your reality is underwhelming to the dreamer in you? Which one do you decide to kill?

The thing is, for the most part, the conventional definition of ‘living the dream’ is straightforward: an endless, hedonistic pursuit of things to have a tangible sense of the abstract concept of success.

I find this version of ‘living the dream’ performative, and the bad news is that it doesn’t just end at owning things. Our culture rewards us for playing shallow, exclusionary status games — striving for envy - look how happy I am (in that I’m saying you’re not; my ideal of joy rests in knowing this joy is unique to me and few others); workplace politics, hustle culture (look how much harder I work than others; in that I am better than the rest); reading [insert unrealistic number] books in a year (look how much smarter I am than the rest of you); owning things (especially things that most others cannot) — and then calls itself lonely (no shit, Sherlock).

I wish ‘fancy’ caught my fancy (I am very humorous, thank you). Life would have been easier if it did. Work hard, buy a thing, momentarily feel like you have arrived, repeat. It’s an end that would have justified the unsatisfactory means. What do you do when you want neither the means nor the end? 

A hill I will die on: not knowing what you want is worse than knowing what you want and not having it.

Sunset with a view, and juggling all the moving parts

In the evenings, I watch the sun set behind the tall and very-corporate towers. I think about how things are so different now. There’s a part of me that yearns to feel as sure of life and everything in it as I did when I was 18. Funny how naïveté can be a blessing. The more you know, the harder it all gets.

Things nobody tells you about your mid-twenties:

• You start noticing the looming reality of your parents’ ageing

• You start asking the big questions about life, your dreams, and your place in the world

• You can’t seem to find the time to hold everything together – friendships, family, health, money, career, inner-child, intellectual pursuits, romantic relationships,… something ends up falling through the cracks 

The future seemed more certain at 18 than it does now because I had the luxury of taking things for granted — my parents’ invincibility, my identity, the people around me, my career, my dreams, and a picture-perfect view of what the world should be like. What happens when all of that changes at the same time? Life starts looking like a web of moving parts.

Things to circle back on

As I wrap up my day and reflect on my to-dos for the week/month/quarter, I’m thinking about how I have so many things to learn and unlearn. Unlearning people-pleasing tops my list this year. I marvel at the irony of having to learn to be more assertive of my boundaries while also trying to be my most authentic self (she’s not assertive!).

Maybe turning 26 this year will mean that I get to unlock another level and finally figure it all out? We’ll see. Until then, I’ll just be here trying to ‘make it’ while also trying to figure what ‘making it’ means.

Some tiny goals for the year: To decode my own value-systems; to tame the web of moving parts; to publish more; to publish honest, unpretentious work. Finally, to be more honest with myself, set better boundaries, and show up for my goals.  

Feel free to steal goals. Feel free to drop your own (I’m taking notes).  

Just regular smart, 

Yashmi

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Thank you, Chris & Russel from Foster for all your feedback. Thank you, Yash, for all the notes.

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P.S. I’ve updated my list of curated reads with some great, thought-provoking pieces.