How to Find Purpose When Life Feels Directionless

I have these moments where, as I wake, I feel as if I am floating. I drag myself through the day in autopilot mode: checking emails, running some errands, or at best just going through the motions, but it all feels hollow. It is not burnout, and it is not depression. That oppressive silence in my chest, an equally oppressive feeling that I am unmoored from something deeper, is earthy: neither dramatic nor loud. There is a dull, persistent hum in the background of every step I take. Having felt or experienced it, you, dear reader, need to know you aren't alone. You aren't broken.

We simply do not talk enough about this stage of life- the liminal space where the old me is gone but a new me hasn't fully come into being, yet it is highly uncomfortable and unclear. This is the place where purpose is birthed, all too often.

Purpose, however, is not like a flash of lightning arriving through a TED Talk or a podcast episode. It evolves slowly through presence, curiosity, and willingness to listen within.

The Myth of "Having It All Figured Out"

We've been told that finding purpose in life is something you track down, like a lost object waiting to be found after a dozen books or personality tests. But my experience suggests purpose is less about finding and more about remembering. It's already within you: quiet maybe, buried maybe, but not gone.

Purpose is not your job title, an ideal relationship, or a flawlessly mapped-out five-year plan. The thread flows through your existence once you strip away expectations. It is the natural pull toward the things that matter to you.

When I started working with a Jungian therapist many years ago, I thought my purpose had to be something grand. Something that would sound good at parties. But I found that my purpose had been whispering all along, through the questions I asked, the people I felt drawn to, the quiet moments that gave me this wonderful feeling for no reason.

When You Feel Lost, Stop Trying to Be Found

If you're in a season where nothing makes sense, permit yourself to not rush out of it. There's wisdom in the disorientation. We don't discover clarity by sprinting toward the next solution. We find it by turning inward and asking the questions we're afraid to ask.

Questions like:

• What part of me have I been ignoring?
• Whose voice am I living by?
• When do I feel most alive, even in small ways?
• What did I love before I was taught to be practical?

The answers may not arrive quickly. But they always come—often in dreams, silence, and moments of complete stillness. I've seen it happen repeatedly in my life and the lives of people I've worked with. The turning point is rarely external. It's always the moment they start telling the truth to themselves.

Reclaiming What You Already Know

So much of finding purpose is actually about unlearning. Unlearning the pressure to be extraordinary. Unlearning the belief that your life must follow a timeline. Unlearning the habit of defining yourself by what you do instead of who you are becoming.

When I sit with clients who feel lost, I rarely give them answers. That's not my job. What I offer instead is a mirror. Together, we look at what's already there—the stories they've internalized, the parts they've disowned, the patterns that keep repeating.

Often, purpose lives in the parts we've pushed away. The anger you were told to suppress? It might point to your boundaries. The grief you never fully processed? It might carry the truth about what you once loved and lost. The confusion you feel? It's a sign that your soul is asking you to stop living on someone else's terms.

Let Purpose Be Quiet at First

There's a tendency to think purpose must be loud and world-changing. But in my experience, it often begins with a whisper. A moment of stillness that feels like home. A conversation that lingers. A sudden desire to start painting again after ten years.

Follow that. Trust that.

Finding purpose in life rarely arrives as a full sentence. It starts with fragments—breadcrumbs—and asks you to follow them, even if the path doesn't make sense yet. There is beauty in that ambiguity. There is power in saying, "I don't know what's next, but I'm open."

Rituals That Can Help You Remember

Here are a few practices that have helped me—and many others—come home to a deeper sense of purpose:

• Journal from your future self. Imagine you're five years ahead, living in alignment. What does a day in your life look like? How do you feel when you wake up?
• Dream work. Keep a dream journal. Dreams are the psyche's way of communicating what the conscious mind hasn't processed.
• Nature walks without your phone. Let your body guide you. The answers we seek often don't come through thinking but through presence.
• Talk to your Shadow. What parts of yourself are you ashamed of, afraid of, or hiding from others? These often hold the key to your purpose.
• Work with a guide. You don't have to do this alone. A trained guide—especially someone who works with depth psychology—can help you unravel the threads and see your life more clearly.

Conclusion: An Invitation from Dr. Bren

If you're feeling the quiet pull to go deeper—beyond surface solutions and toward real integration—I invite you to take that step with someone who's walked this path.

I work with individuals ready to reconnect with their truth, story, and soul's deeper call. If that's you, I'd love to walk alongside you.

You can explore my approach, philosophy, and offerings at Dr Bren.

Your life isn't meaningless. It's just waiting for you to return to it, with curiosity, courage, and compassion. Let's begin.