We are a world obsessed with steps. Enamored with lists. “Four steps to overcoming insecurity.” “Five ways to do date night at home.” “Ten steps to taking back your life from alcohol.” We prefer the information we receive to be carried on the pages of an instruction manual, neatly laid out with A + B = C and little need for additional interpretation. 

“Do this and you will ace the exam.” “Don’t do this and you won’t get the promotion.” Are we thatoverwhelmed by life that we are determined to vacuum-compress everything into pocket-sized pieces? Five stages of the grieving process? If only. 

There are no blueprints for the life you are living. For your experiences, there are precedents and there will be antecedents, but never a Xeroxed copy. We swap lists and scribble down ideas and act as if we’ll unearth the secret of Steve Job’s success if we could just hammer down his ten steps. 

Sometimes we get through the first few checks on Life’s to-do list and then number four will explode. It’s like getting 9 out of 10 punches on your coffee card and then accidentally dropping the coffee card down the tiniest crack in the establishment. (Not speaking from experience or anything.)

Ten steps to happiness does not and will never exist because life is too complex to be pocket-sized. The way forward will be composed of ten thousand decisions, some tiny and unobserved, others visible, but all of them only meaningful in light of the others. 

You make choices every hour that determine the direction of your feet. Maybe that’s why we love lists so much. We can’t get our heads around the sheer number of steps it takes to get up that mountain. To write a novel is to wrestle with subtext as well as verb tense. The great with the tiny. The noticeable with the unnoticeable. 

I’m in a place in life where I wish someone would hand over some intel. Okay, I got the man, I got the degree, the job, the dog. My brain is finally done developing (Mom insisted it wouldn’t get there until age 24. Thanks, Ma). But what the H – E – double hockey stick – do I do now? 

If you, too, “grew up” and still feel like a half-drowned rat drifting out to sea, you’re not alone. I think that’s where we make some of our worst mistakes – thinking we’re alone. To be human is far too often to pretend. To give smug little grins at Class Reunions and act like we’re exactly where we always wanted to be. We exude confidence and coyness when in reality we spend half the party at the punch bowl, staring at So-and-So across the room wondering if we, too, should have studied business finance.

We spend endless hours in comparison and competition when we’d be so much better off just to be vulnerable. I think we’re all aware that spare bedrooms and BMWs and hot-tamale spouses don’t dictate happiness, but we sure act like they do. 

A few weeks ago I was driving to Papa John’s with my best friend (classy night out), and we got started on that black-hole topic of adulthood. She admitted that she didn’t really know what to do next, just that she was ready to move on from our small town and live her life. But that leads to the harder questions – where on earth do we go? We dream of Life Destination Z, but there are so many alphabet letters in between. And despite having landed my dream job and a peach of a husband, I felt the exact same way. 

I think we were both a little surprised to hear the other one admit it. Even with best friends, we can still be so reserved about our private struggles. We take it as a sign of personal betrayal to reveal that we have no idea what we’re doing. But just talking about it together, commiserating, understanding, led to a sense of peace about the whole thing. 

You will open your eyes tomorrow and start making decisions, starting with the first thought that you let roll into the “muse” quarters of your brain. You will ruminate on whether to job search or stick it out where you are. You will contemplate starting a business or a family. You will continue to look with longing at Destination Z and at times feel an overwhelming sense of discouragement. 

But take heart – I’m there, too. We all are, whether we’re prepared to admit it or not. You’re not alone. 

Every day I ask God to show me who I’m supposed to be. To help me to love others more than I love myself. To lead me where I’m supposed to go. In some ways, that’s the best we can do. After all, He can see it all, from beginning to end. I get so frustrated with myself because I have an incredible lack of faith. I stare at my shoes rather than the road ahead of me and wonder when I’ll get there. Where’s there? 

All I know for sure is that there are more than ten steps to life and no list will lead me there. A few days before he died, my father told me something I’ve never forgotten. Voice raspy and tired, heavy breaths in between, he said, “Don’t get discouraged. Grow in your faith.”

I’m trying to grow over here. Sometimes the rain nourishes me and the sun lifts me up, and other times the soil is dry and unforgiving. But you and I will continue to grow, at peace with the reality that this struggle is just life, but at least we can do it together.