Five Familiar Pieces of Advice for Someone Asking "What For", and Where Each One Falls Short

None of them were wrong.

I am thirty-one and I work customer support on the afternoon shift. Within a single month I heard five pieces of advice from five different people, all sincere, all arriving the moment I let slip the sentence stuck in my head: what is any of this I am doing for. I tried all five. Some helped a little. Some left me feeling worse than before I had heard them. And after that month I noticed something almost funny: all five were decent answers, just to a smaller question than the one I had asked.

This is not a list of advice to avoid. The people who gave it cared about me, and every piece has a moment where it works. I only want to point at where each one falls short, and attach one small thing you can do within the week, so that anyone standing where I stood has something to hold instead of one more sentence. A few of them will not suit you. Take what fits and leave the rest.

Anyone who has heard "it will all pass" and felt it was not enough may recognise this feeling. I read a piece that speaks to exactly that: "It will all pass" is a comfort that falls short.

The advice "find a hobby"

One in the afternoon, the rooftop by the water dispenser, two of us on plastic chairs sharing a box of chicken rice. Vy from the next desk handed me a peach tea and looked at me for a while.

— You have seemed a little out of it lately.

— I keep asking myself what all this is for.

— Find a hobby. I started a pottery class and it helps a lot.

That afternoon I downloaded a drawing app, and that evening I stopped at a stationery shop and bought a twenty-colour watercolour set. Three weeks later the set sat on top of a cabinet, the last few pans still unopened, and I had exactly one new question: what is drawing for.

The shortfall is a little hard to see. That advice assumes I was asking because I had too much free time and nothing to fill it. But I was asking because I was holding everything up against one ruler: is it any use. When a new activity arrives, the ruler arrives with it and measures the paintbox too. A hobby measured like a task becomes one more task.

How to tell you are doing it right: the list sounds a little dull. Scrolling the phone, wiping the table, watching a neighbour's cat. The first time, many people find it is all phone, and feel a bit ashamed. My three lines were all phone. After a week, some people notice one thing outside the phone keeps coming back, and others notice nothing, and nothing is also a result. On a day too busy, write just one line tonight, ten seconds.

The most common slip is using those three lines as evidence for a prosecution: "see, when I am free all I do is scroll, what a waste of time". It is tempting because it sounds like honesty with yourself. But this exercise only needs you to write it down the way you would write the weather. If it rained, write rain, with no verdict on who was wrong.

The advice "go somewhere to clear your head"

Eleven at night, a message from Khoa lit up the old friends' group chat.

— Come up to Da Lat this weekend. You will stop thinking the second you get there.

I went. A sleeper bus, a dawn arrival at the station, fog so thick I could not see the end of the lane, a hot coffee in two cold hands. For those two days I could breathe. Truly. On Sunday afternoon I boarded the bus home, my head had barely touched the window when the old question sat down in the next seat, luggage and all.

The shortfall: a trip is a very good way to rest, and rest is exactly what it can do. But "what is life for" is so large that no answer fits inside a weekend. I went to avoid it, and once avoided, it waited at the bus station holding a bigger sign than when I left. Using a trip to answer the question is handing the job to the wrong place.

How to tell you are doing it right: there is a size where the answer is no longer vague. The first time, many people get stuck at "one year" and feel they are shrinking the question or dodging it. Some feel relief, some feel faintly like they are cheating, and both are common. After a week, some people find the big question presses less while they do small things, and others find nothing yet. On a busy day just write the "this afternoon" size, one line.

The most common slip is dropping the big question altogether, as if shrinking it solved it. It does not. The big one stays on the paper exactly as written, it is just no longer being demanded in a single afternoon. Keep the paper somewhere visible, and do not cross it out.

The advice "think of people who have it worse"

Dinner at home, the sour soup still steaming, the evening news on low. I let slip that I no longer knew what I was doing any of this for. Mum put down her chopsticks.

— Plenty of people have no work at all. You have a job, a place to live. What is there to complain about.

— I know.

— If you know, then stop thinking nonsense.

I stuck my chopsticks into my bowl and stayed quiet. And that night I had one more thing I had not had before the meal: shame. If I had a job and still asked, then I was ungrateful.

What Mum said is true. The shortfall is that it shuts the door on the question instead of answering it, and the feeling of being stopped stays inside me, a fresh layer on top. Later I thought it over: she said it because she was afraid I would lose my way, and what she meant was probably "I am worried", but it came out as "you are wrong". Those are two different sentences, and I needed somewhere to say the question out loud without it being turned into "you are wrong".

How to tell you are doing it right: the other person nods, or says "mm", or sits in silence with you for a while, and you do not have to explain further. The first time, many people feel awkward, and the listener sometimes stays quiet longer than you expected. After a week, some people feel less need to hide the question, and others still get a piece of advice back and feel let down. Letdown is fine, because at least the question has been said once. On a day when you cannot sit with anyone, write that sentence on a page and do not send it.

The most common slip is picking the person who will give advice right away, because you are used to going to them. It is tempting because it is easy, and because you quietly want advice so it can be over. Pick someone who listens more than they talk, or pick the page. And if someone who loves you says the wrong thing, a ready answer is: thank you, but I just want to tell you about it.

The advice "set a big goal and it will go away"

Saturday afternoon, a sidewalk coffee stall, red plastic stools not yet wiped, my old colleague Tuan showed me a video on his phone. The person in the video said everyone needs a clear goal, written on paper and stuck to the wall.

I bought a stack of yellow sticky notes, went home and wrote in big letters: "finish the coding course before the end of the year". I stuck it next to my bed. The first week, opening my eyes to it every morning gave me enough push to get up. By the third week the glue had begun to give, the corner curled, and one morning it fell to the floor. I picked it up and stuck it back, but I stopped reading it.

The shortfall: I set that goal while I was falling apart, like pressing a patch onto a hole, not because I wanted to learn to code. When the burst of enthusiasm passed, the question showed up again right behind the paper. A goal answers "where am I heading". The question I was asking was "why head anywhere". Those two stand side by side but cannot stand in for each other. Some people who read four misunderstandings about "purpose in life" feel lighter once they see where the pressure to "have a big purpose" tends to come from.

How to tell you are doing it right: the sentence sounds almost embarrassingly small. The first time, many people feel a goal that small means nothing, and want to rewrite it bigger. After a week, some people find that the "no longer wanted" on Sunday evening gives them information they did not have before, and others simply want it again on Monday. On a busy day just write the sentence, no need to do it yet.

There are two common slips. One is feeling good in the second week and stretching it into a year-long plan, until the sticky note swells back into a ruler. The other is treating Sunday evening like a courtroom, "half done means I gave up". What makes both tempting is the feeling of being serious. Instead, keep to the size, and remember that dropping a small goal because it did not suit you is also something you have finished.

The advice "just stay busy, busy people stop thinking"

Half past nine at night, the afternoon shift just over, colleagues switching off their machines one by one. Hanh, the team lead, stood next to my desk with her headset hanging loosely around her neck, a few calls still blinking on the screen behind her.

— Take on the new project. When you are busy you stop thinking nonsense.

— Okay.

I took it. For the next three weeks my schedule was so full that the question had no room to squeeze in, and sure enough it went away. Then one night, half past eleven, I switched off the light, the ceiling fan turned, the smell of mosquito coil lingered, and it came back heavier than before, like a child left outside the door too long.

The shortfall: busyness covers the question, it does not answer it. Some days covering is needed, because some things have to be finished first. But the question does not vanish when it is buried. It waits where the noise stops, and that is usually where I am most tired, so it speaks at exactly the moment I have the least strength to listen.

How to tell you are doing it right: you can stand up when the timer rings. The first time, many people find ten minutes long, or find they cannot write anything. I sat looking at a blank page for most of that first session. After a week, some people find the question turns up less suddenly at midnight because it now has an appointment of its own, and others notice no difference. If it arrives midweek, write one word on the paper and tell it you will see it Sunday. This is much like the piece on writing down three worries and scheduling time for them later, except that I make the appointment with a question instead of a worry.

The most common slip is sitting past the timer, until ten minutes turns into interrogating yourself until late. It is tempting because you believe that if you sit long enough, an answer will come. Usually it does not, only tiredness does. When the timer rings, stop, even unfinished. A part of it waits for next time.

If you tried it and it did not work

Two reasons come up often.

The first: none of the five fit you, and that is not your fault or the fault of the person who advised you. Some people need to sit still, some need to walk, some need to work with their hands. If you already know a way that suits you and the people around you have not thought of it, use that. I am only writing down what I tried, not what everyone should try.

The second: the question has stopped being a question and become a feeling of emptiness lasting many weeks, along with eating and sleeping out of rhythm, no wish to see anyone, or a sense that everything is pointless. At those times the five small things above are not what you need. Talking to a professional, a doctor or someone who works in mental health, is worth doing early. And if you have thoughts of hurting yourself, please go to Emergency Support today.

This afternoon I sat on the plastic chair on the rooftop by the water dispenser again. Vy handed me a peach tea, and I did not answer anything about hobbies. I only said: "Sit with me a while."

She sat.

This article was created with AI assistance.