The Weight of Significance

Why is personal significance so important to me?

Maybe because I’ve spent so long trying to feel like I matter.
Not just to others, but to the story I’m living.
I want my life to mean something.
To ripple outward.
To make a difference.

Lately, the patterns seem to point toward law.
Maybe that’s the path.
Maybe that’s how I help.
But I’ve seen what that path can cost.
A friend walked it, made good money—but paid in stress and sickness.
So I ask myself: is that what matters most?

I think about my family.
How I treat them.
How I take them for granted.
And I wonder—what is most important to me?

We live simply.
One vehicle.
A home that’s falling apart.
Mistakes made years ago still echo through our finances.
How long are we supposed to pay for them?

We owe the money.
Why fight it?
But then again—why surrender?

Our youngest may never understand the weight we’ve carried.
The quiet sacrifices.
The skipped meals.
The dreams deferred.

Maybe it’s time to quit smoking.
To plan a menu.
To stop spending on things that keep us going but hold us back.
Streaming services. Energy drinks.
Little comforts with big costs.

To buy a home, we’d need more than hope.
Closing costs.
Demolition.
Moving.
Maybe even a down payment.

And then there’s me.
This mind that notices everything and nothing.
Hypersensitive in some ways.
Hyposensitive in others.
Not looking for a label.
Just a way to manage.

Patterns point to the same spot.
But I’ve never been diagnosed.
And maybe I don’t need to be.
Maybe I just need to understand myself better.
To find tools that help me navigate the noise.

Personal significance isn’t about being impressive.
It’s about feeling like your life has meaning.
That your existence isn’t just a reaction to circumstance, but a response to something deeper.

I want to be that response.
Even if I don’t have all the answers.
Even if I’m still learning how to ask the right questions.