Jennifer Louden - Why bother? : discover the desire for whats next

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Asking Why bother? is inevitable. Its baked into being human. And its time to notice: how are you asking the question?

"W hy bother? is a pseudo-question, already answered in the negative by resignation. The why bother many of us know all too well insists you cant, its been done, its far too late and you dont have what it takes. It uses cynicismthe planets dying, why bother?to bolster its case that nothing you can do really matters. It replays the good old days followed by a chorus of if onlys and everybody else can but you. It beats you up for wanting more while at the same time it discourages you by insisting there isnt any more to be had. And conveniently, why bother has political and corporate corruption, environmental disaster, economic injustice, and the way your brain is wired to bolster its case at every turn.

Why bothers most familiar side is a grubby bummer, defined by despair and punctuated by long sighs. It shows up as emptiness, blame, numbing out, coasting, complaining, starting something and then stopping. The desolate kind of why bother means looking only in the rearview mirror of your life, back at your story that no longer makes sense to you or has been taken from you. Or, if youre younger, you may find yourself looking into the future and believing all the good stuff of life is either out of your reach or no longer exists. Its letting grief over past losses and traumas devour your future. Its giving up on believing there is more for you, a more that can be as satisfying, as enlivening, as meaningful, as beautiful as what has come before or what has yet to be. Its choosing comfort and routine over aliveness and growth. Its believing your story of whats not possible more than the bracing reality of taking action. Its knowing youll never hear the voice of your beloved partner or friend or parent againand refusing to listen for anything else. Its too much sugar, too much wine, too many nights watching hours of TV , or too much partying when you want to be dancing or writing or learning the names of the constellations. Its pointlessness, apathy, embitterment, disappointment, dismay. Perhaps, most of all, its disgust at yourself for being here in this haggard blank ick.

What most of us have never learned is that why bother is one of the most important questions we can ever ask. Its natural, even inevitable. Its baked into being human. Its the question that can drag you down or guide you to what you want, to the desire that animates and enlivens your whats next. Its all in how you ask.

Im not talking about surface-level wants. There are only so many shoes, cupcakes, glasses of sauvignon blanc, and murder mysteriesas well as promotions, houses, cars, and awardsa person can enjoy before they want more out of life. And thats what we want: more. More satisfaction, more significance, more engagement, more intimacy, more creativity, more love, more connection, more aliveness. Your brain is wired to make meaning and it does that by constructing an ongoing narrative about why you do what you do and why it matters. Even as neuroscientists and philosophers gather to debate whether or not we have free will, whether or not we have a fixed self, and whether or not being human is the special be-all and end-all weve spent millennia convincing ourselves it is, even still, our brains seek meaning. You do that by creating a narrative. You cant turn your brains story-making machine off.

Your mission is to create a new story that nurtures a flourishing and fulfilled future. The idea that its just a story makes some people uneasy but when you step back, all human culture is based on a story. Democracy is a story. Marriage is a story. A companys culture is a story. Religions each have a story. What often entangles us in the desolate kind of why bother is being unwilling or unable to do the work of writing a new story that we can wholeheartedly love. What you wantand must haveto bother again is a story you believe in.

And lest this all sound like a shit ton of work and youre ready to shut this book and binge some Queer Eye, Ive got great news. Youre already doing it.

Yep. Youre already bothering again. Youre already in the process of renewal and revitalization thats built into being human, an organic creative process that, when you work with it and relax into it, will take you back into liveliness, zest, and enthusiasm for your real desiresor help you find them for the first time. Contrary to what you think, youre not becalmed in a why bother wasteland. This is not a forever state. Youve answered the call and the process has already begun. Take a breath and know that bothering again is in progress and its going to rock your world.

In my various sloughs of despair, starting in my mid-twenties, I told myself an I failed storyfailed at screen-writing, failed at self-help, failed at marriage, failed at novel writing, failed at parenting, failed at being a good friend, failed at living fully... and on my list would go. But each of those failures was in fact a tale of desire denied or truncated, an opportunity to write a new story that I turned away from because I was too timid or too addicted to comfort, or I was trying to be somebody important or afraid of being broke. I did things like insist my desires look a certain way and were completed successfully within a totally unrealistic time frame. I forgot that the purpose of desire is to draw us forward into living, into what captivates usnot to help us attain a particular career or creative goal or get paid more or even to stay married or find lasting love. I forgot that every major transition requires rediscovering desire; without that, I faltered. I forgot that what I bother about is always my choice and that I must actually choose, instead of looking outside myself for what to do next and then pretending it was my choice.

Sometimes whats next involves reclaiming what has been lost. Allow me to introduce you to June. Junes a composite portrait of the thousands of people who have attended my retreats and courses over the years. She is twenty-four or thirty-nine or fifty or seventy-two. At our first gathering, shes afraid, her voice shakes. Ive wanted to write (or paint or take photographs or sing or...) since I was eight years old but then... The reasons vary. It might be the death of a parent, or being good at math and encouraged to go into engineering, or she kept writing but technical writing, or she took photos until her kids were born. Or she painted, but it wasnt as easy as she thought it would be. Or she got so much early praise, she froze. Or the patriarchal capitalist machine wore her down or taught her that what she desired was foolish. Whatever the reasons, the results are the same: something vital and important to her went underground and now shes hunting to get it back. More to the point, shes looking for whats next.

Sometimes whats next has nothing to do with lost creativity. Meet Ruby, who loved her work, loved her hobbies, was surrounded by great friends, but was asking why bother to stay in her twenty-five-year-long intimate partnership. Or Alex, who had worked hard to get his degrees and land a good job, but now that he had one, he found himself stalled and scared. I did everything I was supposed to do and now Im like, This is all there is? Thats so frightening to ask. Or Cathy, who had worked hard so she could retire, yet found a core part of her identity was wrapped up in her job. Who would I be if I dont have that? she asked. Could I find something to do that was significant enough to be satisfying? Would I really be able to leave all this success behind without leaving myself behind too?