Meaning-Making for When It All Feels Pointless: Everyday Existentialism That Might Just Save Your Sanity
Because sometimes all you’ve got is grilled cheese and a shred of hope.
Let’s be real: life can get bleak. Like, “how is it only Wednesday and why does everything taste like cardboard” bleak. Or “the world is on fire and I’m still expected to answer emails” bleak. We all hit those points where everything feels kind of… pointless. The big existential dread sets in, and suddenly you're questioning everything from your career to your group chat etiquette.
And here’s the thing: you’re not broken for feeling that way.
Welcome to what I like to call everyday existentialism — the very chill, very unglamorous process of trying to make sense of life when it just doesn’t make sense. It's not about having a grand purpose or becoming a TED Talk in human form. It's about scraping together some kind of meaning from the chaos, enough to keep going without falling into a pit of despair. (Or at least not living in that pit permanently.)
But… what even is meaning-making?
At its core, it’s exactly what it sounds like: making meaning. Finding threads of connection, value, or purpose in your day-to-day life, even when things feel objectively bad. Especially when things feel bad. It’s that moment when you cry-laugh with a friend on a hard day. Or when you realize that your weird little hobby actually helps regulate your nervous system. Or when you choose to keep showing up for people, not because life is perfect, but because connection matters to you.
It’s also incredibly personal. What’s meaningful for me might make zero sense to you, and that’s not only fine — it’s kind of the whole point.
Why bother with this “meaning” stuff, though?
Because otherwise, it’s really easy to slide into despair. And despair is a sneaky bastard. It doesn’t always show up as dramatic sadness. Sometimes it’s numbness. Or apathy. Or scrolling at 2am wondering if anything actually matters.
Meaning-making isn’t a cure-all, but it gives your brain and body something to hold onto. It helps you orient yourself when the world feels disorienting. It adds some structure to the mess. And sometimes, just having a “why” — even a small one — is enough to get through the next hour.
“Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear almost any 'how'.”
— Nietzsche, quoted by Viktor Frankl
The problem with Big Meaning™
There’s a trap we fall into, especially in Western culture: the idea that meaning has to be capital-M Meaning. As in, your career should be meaningful. Your relationshipshould be meaningful. You should be finding your purpose and living your truth and maximizing your potential at all times.
Honestly? That’s exhausting. And unrealistic.
Sometimes, your meaning for the day is “I made a grilled cheese and texted a friend.” That counts. You’re allowed to find value in the tiny stuff. In fact, it’s probably healthier to start there than to try to reverse-engineer your identity around a giant existential concept.
How to start making meaning (without having an identity crisis)
If you’re new to this whole “making meaning” thing, start small. Ask yourself:
What actually matters to me (even a little)?
When do I feel most like myself?
Where do I feel a sense of connection, even if it’s fleeting?
What’s something I want to keep showing up for, even when things suck?
There are no right answers. You’re not writing an essay for your high school philosophy teacher. This is about building a kind of mental scaffolding that helps you weather the hard days. It’s about reclaiming agency when everything feels out of your control.
And look — I’m not going to pretend that meaning-making always feels good. Sometimes it’s gritty. Sometimes it requires grief. Sometimes it’s just you, sitting on the floor, realizing you’ve outgrown old versions of yourself and not quite knowing what’s next.
But those moments? They’re where the good stuff starts.
Final thought (because therapists love those)
Meaning-making isn’t some shiny, life-hacking productivity thing. It’s survival. It’s how we anchor ourselves in uncertainty. It’s what makes community feel like community. It’s what makes mental health something we can nurture, instead of constantly fix.
And in a world that often feels indifferent, choosing to care — about anything — is actually kind of revolutionary.
If you’ve ever stared at the ceiling wondering what the hell the point of it all is, Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl is worth your time. It’s not light reading—he survived the Holocaust and doesn’t sugarcoat it—but what he pulls from the wreckage is powerful: even in the absolute worst circumstances, meaning is what keeps us alive. It’s a deeply human, surprisingly grounding read for when everything feels like it’s unraveling. Existentialism, but make it accessible.
Tell us all the things that are meaningful to you so collective humanity can have fun and live vicariously in case the grilled cheese isn’t doing it for us right now.
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