Living For Goals While We Forget Why
How Purpose Became a Product and Left Meaning Behind
There’s a trend I fell into years ago. A trend that slowly snowballed into an obsession. I know I'm not alone. The proof is the countless bestsellers, gurus, influencers, and YouTube channels teaching us how to optimize every part of our lives as if self-improvement is the path to salvation.
Squeeze more out of your minutes, and you'll make more money. Optimize your hours, and you'll have more freedom. Hack your health, and you might never feel sick again.
There’s a skip in my step when I reach a goal. A twinkle in my eye. Do you feel it? That surge of confidence knowing you got shit done or that you've improved yourself? I do, and it’s addicting.
Yet, I'm still not satisfied. Because somewhere along the way, optimizing life replaced living it. I've always been driven toward success. Success meant setting goals and reaching them or going above and beyond. That hunger inevitably led me online, where advice, role models, and improvement channels abound for every part of our existence: dating, finances, health, trauma, relationships, beauty, and productivity. The list goes on and on... It's never been easier for the average person to self-help their way to a “glow-up” or a "good life."
It's no coincidence everything I'm writing about circles back to our constant consumption of digital media. I watch a self-improvement video, and when my feed refreshes, there are 10 more just like it. The more I watch, the more I'm fed. It's a digital rabbit hole and it's bottomless.
The rise of social media accelerated the self-help movement (or did it just expose our hunger for it?). And what does it mean as a society if we're optimizing ourselves while our institutions crumble, that while we tick off our to-dos, we're more divided, or that we're tracking our carbs while struggling to think critically? Optimizing our lives without deeper meaning is like endlessly sharpening a blade we'll never use.
There's a growing obsession with being seen as productive, self-improved, liked, influential, or wealthy. There's also an urge to share that growth online. We're in the era of cultivating followers, not relationships. But there's a vacancy created in our soul as we surround ourselves with digital personas and compare ourselves to influencers who have it "together." Our critical thinking is sapped, as we mindlessly spend our free time doom-scrolling, hunting for the next quick-fix success tip.
I remember browsing TikTok one evening and starting to feel anxious and unsettled. I was scrolling endlessly, chasing my next dopamine surge. Enzo the Staffy dog made me laugh. A random user shared relationship advice. Someone else showed me how to boost productivity with AI, followed by a fitness channel promising results in under 20 minutes. Half an hour slipped by, but nothing felt rewarding or satisfying. Instead, I felt more agitated, restless, and almost drained. More importantly, something was missing. A box left unticked. A big one. The biggest...
Meaning.
It's hit me that the pursuit of becoming a “better human” has become its own market. There’s a whole digital economy built on self-improvement, fitness influencers, gurus, and self-help channels, all promising "the good life," more energy, more love, more discipline, and more success. But most of it is packaged, retouched, staged, and sold like a fix, not a journey. It's all selling a purpose without meaning. Like if you just follow these five steps, you’ll figure life out.
Real self-discovery is an endless journey, not something you can learn in a 15-minute video. It's not a checklist. It's the process of looking inward, sitting with silence, asking questions, and letting the answers shape you over time. It's slow, uncertain, uncomfortable, and endless. No guru or algorithm can lead you there because self-discovery isn't something you follow, it's something you discover.
Maybe that’s part of the problem. We’ve turned purpose into content. Growth into a product. The question of who we are and why we’re here gets buried behind thumbnails, how-to videos, and checklists. And all of it—every video, every post, every system—is quietly feeding the idea that we’re not enough. We'll never be enough. But if we scroll long enough, we may find the one video that changes everything. So we get hooked, scrolling endlessly, waiting for answers that never arrive.
The hardest part of self-discovery is the one thing social media never gives us: stillness. For most of us, stillness feels uncomfortable. Silence leaves too much space. Space for the inner critic to speak up. For the questions we try to avoid. For the quiet reminder that we're mortal.
So we fill that silence. We scroll, binge, buy, hustle, and do anything to stay distracted. We chase goals not just to grow but to feel in control. To have something to aim at. Something to focus on. It helps quiet the fear and gives us the illusion of order in a chaotic world. A literal "purpose" but without meaning.
Maybe that's why we're so divided. Without meaning, we rush to fill the gap with identities, ideologies, and outrage. We stop seeing each other—stop thinking—because we're too busy hunting for quick fixes, joining tribes, building brands, and choosing sides, all while avoiding the one thing that might bring us back to the center: stillness.
I'm trying to return to a time when my life was rooted in meaning and not metrics. I want to find my way back to something deeper. I want less screen time and to allow more moments of silence. I want to rediscover a life grounded in meaning. That's the goal—even if it means taking five minutes each day to pause, breathe, and simply exist without scrolling or looking for a fix.
Life shouldn't be something you earn by checking boxes, collecting followers, or competing with a profile. It should be lived slowly, inwardly, meaningfully, and honestly, one day at a time.
Maybe that’s the real question beneath all of this: In our race to optimize ourselves, have we forgotten how to live?
I hate paywalls. They kill curiosity and reward clickbait. That’s why the core content here will always be free.
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Thanks for being here. Stay Curious. Question Everything.
–Luis
"There’s a skip in my step when I reach a goal. A twinkle in my eye. Do you feel it?" I do - thanks