Musings from an Overfeeler Navigating Meaning, Madness, and the Occasional Well-Earned Face-Plant
Someone unwise once wrote,
“Take the first step and the road ahead will appear.”
They left out the part where the road feels more like a tightrope with no safety net beneath it. They didn’t mention that there are a ton of first steps that inconveniently seem to lead absolutely nowhere, but eventually bring you where you want to go. And they also failed to warn us that where you want to go will almost certainly change along the way. Often.
Some years, life feels like The Wizard of Oz. You wander far and wide in search of what you believe you lack, making wonderfully flawed friends along the way, only to discover that what you’re looking for has been sitting inside you the whole time. You learn that the journey doesn’t give you courage or wisdom; it just reveals what was already there. You stop fearing the little ominous voice behind the curtain that pretends to be larger than life while trying to keep you small. And yes, the ruby shoes matter — possibly more than your life choices.
Other years, life may feel like a scene from Game of Thrones, where you obsessively chase control and certainty only to lose yourself before realising that surviving, loving, and shouldering the burden of choice are what actually give life meaning. Though being hailed the Mother of Dragons is still pretty damn neat.
If you’re a woman, lately it may feel more dystopian, like The Handmaid’s Tale. You watch politicians try to stripaway your autonomy in real time and are struck by how complacent, silent, and oblivious people can be in the face of oppression. You cringe every time a “trad wife” on Instagram swears she’s living the dream. And you grow increasingly concerned about women’s rights, personal freedom, and human intelligence in general.
Why some women choose to remain subservient emotional service stations for men remains a mystery to me. Perhaps we should applaud their entrepreneurial spirit of monetizing their performance of not needing money. How savage!
On most years, though, life feels like Pulp Fiction: chaotic, ridiculous, full of moments that seem disconnected but are intensely connected. You bounce between absurdity and tragedy, laughing in the most inappropriate settings because life is relentlessly testing your patience and sanity. It feels like you’re barely surviving, and your friends are absolutely making matters worse.
There’s no neat narrative, no single lesson, only the messy thrill of living, learning, laughing at yourself, and dancing along the way. And just when you think the year is finally over, an equally insanely sequenced sequel awaits.
C’est la vie, said the old folks.
Life has a way of handing you lemons, echo chambers, expired social norms, and the odd impossible friendship. Question the echo chamber, mute the cruel voices (especially the one in your head) and dump the long-simmered social expectations.
Take chances on people, on projects, on yourself. Yes, sometimes you’ll lose along the way. Learn to hold love in absence when presence is no longer possible. Reparent the neglected parts of yourself, and accept that control is mostly a myth.
Do the best with the heart you have, and you’ll find there’s a bit of madness in every meaning, and a bit of meaning in every madness.
Enjoy 2026. May you stretch yourself with the ambition of an Olympian gymnast, even if your flexibility is that of a red panda.
Happy growing, everyone.
