Two years of feeling lost and starting over — this is how to find yourself again. The story behind Still. Maybe it’s yours too.
You go through the motions. You do the things you’re supposed to do. But there’s this constant feeling underneath — like the ground might give way at any moment, and you wouldn’t even be surprised.
You’re not sure what you’re doing, or why. And even when you’re busy, you feel lost.
According to a LinkedIn survey of over 6,000 adults across the US, UK, India, and Australia, 75% of people between the ages of 25 and 33 experienced a quarter-life crisis. It has a name because it is that common. And yet when you are in the middle of it, it feels entirely private. Like something must be wrong specifically with you.
It isn’t. The feeling of being lost at this stage of life is not a personal failure. It is, for many people, a necessary part of finding out what actually matters to them.
Even small decisions feel unbearable. A trip next weekend. Where to go. How to plan it. Things that should be exciting just feel like too much — one more thing there’s no capacity for.
That was me. Moving through each day because the day kept moving — not because I knew where I was going.
The turning point wasn’t a revelation. It was a subtraction.
How to Find Yourself Again: Starting With Subtraction
I started paying attention to what felt wrong — not dramatically wrong, just quietly draining. Friends I wasn’t sure about. Classes I kept hesitating over. Commitments that left me feeling emptier than before. One by one, I stopped. Not because I had a plan. Because I finally trusted that feeling of “this isn’t right” enough to act on it.
What was left was smaller. But it was mine.
I want to be honest about something. It wasn’t just resilience. The discouragement was real. The fear of trying again was real. There were times I would talk myself out of something before I even started — already assuming it wouldn’t work.
Both things were true at the same time: I believed things could be better, and I was terrified to find out if I was wrong.
There will be moments of despair. That’s not a sign that something is wrong with you. That’s just what this road feels like sometimes.
You don’t have to be okay. You just have to still be here.
In the middle of all of it, I noticed something small. Beautiful things helped. Not in a way that fixed anything — but in a way that reminded me the world still had texture. A warm light in a quiet room. Something cool and real to hold. A moment where I wasn’t thinking about what I was supposed to figure out.
That’s why I made Still. Not as an answer. Just as a reminder that you’re still here, and the world is still worth noticing.