It’s 6:30 am on a random Tuesday and I’m sitting at my desk getting ready with a mirror in one hand and some concealer promising to cover my dark circles in the other. I’m listening to my usual morning YouTube rotation of self-help and cat videos and celebrity interviews when Harvard Professor Arthur Brooks pops up on my feed in a catchy WIRED “Answers Questions from Twitter” interview in which he states that purpose is “one of the macronutrients to happiness.” Then he hits me with the following:

“Answer the following two questions: “why am I alive” and “for what am I willing to die.” If you don’t have an answer to one or both of those questions, you’re gonna have an existential crisis.”

And thus begins my doom spiral at 6:30 in the morning.

Why do we put so much pressure on purpose?

Look, if you grew up in capitalist America, the idea of monetizing your purpose is practically stitched into your DNA. It's not just a concept; it’s a cultural script, nudging you to believe that passion without profit is somehow wasted potential. We can trace this back to Weber’s *The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism* if you want to dip into theory by unpacking how financial success was evidence of your God-given virtue according to Calvinist principles. These ideals enmeshed themselves into capitalism and left us with the “we’re gonna make money and be happy, dammit,” mentality.

Even after divorcing it from monetary implications, the idea of purpose and intrinsic motivational drive still hold deep value to me. I want to know my ‘why’ because it gives me a reason to keep moving forward.
Yet I still can’t shake the weight of it all. Why does this search for meaning feel so loaded with pressure to always be “doing the most” or becoming the most realized version of myself? Why does purpose still have to feel so heavy? *Can’t the point of life just be… living it?*

The Psychological Side

Purpose, according to psychologists, is often tied to well-being, motivation, and resilience. Viktor Frankl, Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, famously argued that meaning—and by extension, purpose—helps us endure suffering. In Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl writes, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live can bear with almost any ‘how.’” Psychologists like Frankl suggest that purpose isn’t a luxury—it’s a psychological necessity, a way to anchor ourselves through life’s inevitable chaos.

Modern psychology breaks purpose into two categories: intrinsic and extrinsic. Intrinsic purpose is personal, internal—something that aligns with your values, like building meaningful relationships or pursuing personal growth. Extrinsic purpose, on the other hand, is outward-facing—achieving status, wealth, or societal recognition. The sweet spot is when what drives you also aligns with what matters to you, but often, people struggle to balance both. Purpose becomes a quest, leaving many feeling lost when their career, relationships, or goals don’t bring the fulfillment they expect. (btw, if you’re curious about where your “need orientation” generally rests, check out my last article here.)

What the Philosophers Are Saying

Philosophers have been wrestling with purpose for centuries, and, surprise—it’s complicated, and it culminates in an ambiguous ‘choose your own adventure.’ Sartre hits us with existentialism, arguing that “existence precedes essence”—meaning, we exist first, and it’s up to us to create our purpose. There’s no pre-assigned script, only what we choose to make of our lives. Liberating? Or terrifying? I tend to lean more toward the latter.

Then there’s Camus, who suggests in *The Myth of Sisyphus* that life is inherently absurd.

We push the boulder up the hill every day, knowing it will roll back down. But instead of despairing, Camus invites us to embrace the absurd and find joy in the struggle. In a way, his philosophy challenges the idea that purpose needs to be grand or permanent—it’s about how we choose to show up, even when things feel meaningless. Still, not a fan of this option.

Sure, we can make the best of any situation and try to carve out purpose wherever we land. But why is it that certain actions, places, and ideas feel like home, while others feel foreign—distant from who we really are? Doesn’t that, in itself, suggest that purpose isn’t just something we invent, but something we uncover? The moments that feel like an extension of our being — don’t they inherently carry purpose by giving us information about ourselves?
Perhaps purpose isn’t only about creating meaning, but also recognizing it when it finds us.

When I’m confused, I do what I usually do: ask myself, “What would Arendt say about this?”

Hannah Arendt (who would object to being called a philosopher) offers a perspective that shifts the focus from introspection to engagement. For Arendt, purpose isn’t just something we think or feel—it’s something that arises through *action*. We discover who we are and where meaning lives by participating in the world—by working, creating, building relationships, and showing up in the spaces we share with others. As she puts it, *“Action, the only thing that reveals a person completely, can only occur in the space shared with others.”*

Arendt’s take suggests that purpose isn’t something to be overthought or waited on—it’s revealed in what we do, not what we plan. We find purpose by being part of life’s unfolding, not by retreating from it. It’s in those moments of engagement when we lose ourselves in action that purpose finds us.

Perhaps that’s the point—purpose isn’t discovered by isolating ourselves in thought, but by showing up for the messy, unpredictable, and meaningful work of living and connecting.

The Pressure with Purpose

The anxiety of not finding purpose can be more overwhelming than purpose itself. We treat purpose like it’s a destination, something to reach, when, in reality, it’s an ongoing process. The questions Arthur Brooks asks—“Why am I alive?” and “For what am I willing to die?”—aren’t meant to be answered once and forgotten. They are expansive. They linger in the background, evolving as we learn, grow, and change. Purpose is less of a target and more of an orientation taking us through the process of becoming.

Individuate Away: Carl Jung

I think I’m in cahoots with Jung on this one. Carl Jung’s concept of individuation offers a refreshing perspective on purpose—it’s not about a fixed goal but about becoming who you were always meant to be. Individuation is the lifelong process of integrating the different parts of yourself—your conscious mind, unconscious desires, strengths, flaws, and even your shadows—into a unified whole. It’s less about *finding* a purpose and more about embracing the complexity of who you are.

Purpose, in this sense, isn’t something external you have to chase; it’s something that emerges as you grow, change, and make peace with yourself.

Lingering Thoughts

So, is purpose overrated? It depends. If you’re searching for happiness, purpose is essential as it gives life the necessary structure and clarity to thrive.

But the beauty of purpose is that it isn’t static. It changes, it evolves, it grows with you. It’s the quiet ways we live with intention — how we connect, how we create, and how we care.

Maybe that is purpose: continually, but peacefully, searching for answers to questions bigger than ourselves, knowing you are becoming.

Is Purpose Overrated?