I’ve realized that life is mostly made up of little absurdities — those quiet, daily frustrations that never make the highlight reels but somehow define our days. And I’ve been navigating it armed with caffeine, a slightly overactive imagination, and a suspicious collection of therapy quotes that promise enlightenment in bite-sized doses.
Take, for example, the time my therapist told me I was an orange. Not metaphorically “bright” or “cheerful”—literally an orange. The idea was, “Not everyone likes oranges. Doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with the orange.” I tried applying this wisdom when someone ghosted me. “It’s fine. I’m an orange,” I repeated like a mantra. It worked—until I noticed that the apples in my life seemed to be doing better. Suddenly, existential fruit comparisons were a thing.
Worrying, of course, has been my specialty. My brain doesn’t just think; it crafts elaborate narratives starring inanimate objects as villains. When someone said, “Will worrying about it change the outcome?” I had an epiphany. The answer, of course, is always no. So I cut back—mostly. I now spend only about a quarter of my waking hours spiraling. Progress, right?
Decisions have always been another arena of absurdity. I used to believe there was a right choice for everything, as if life were a giant game of moral Sudoku. Then came the revelation: “There’s not always a right or wrong decision. Just make the best one with what you have.” Solid advice, except for the five hours I spent agonizing over whether to get the Space Gray or Silver MacBook Pro. Aesthetics matter, apparently.
And then there’s the blunt truth: “You are not special.” Harsh at first, liberating after a few deep breaths. Nothing quite frees you from anxiety like realizing the universe isn’t holding a spotlight over your mistakes or awkward moments. Your ex moving on? Not a tragedy. No one’s losing sleep over it.
Relationships come with their own set of quiet dilemmas. My therapist once reframed a breakup for me: “Think of it as complete, not over.” I almost cried into my ice cream but ended up chuckling instead. My ex became a chapter in a book rather than a cliffhanger I couldn’t close. Another golden rule: “Your partner should enhance what you like most about yourself.” This simple principle has prevented countless potential disasters. If they can’t laugh at my weird humor or appreciate my penchant for solitary Netflix nights, they’re not the right co-star for my life.
People-pleasing is another absurd trap. “Why do you make people comfortable when you’re uncomfortable?” That one stung. It turns out, being a social chameleon doesn’t earn awards—it just leaves you exhausted and underappreciated.
And yet, there’s philosophy tucked into all this chaos. “Emotions are not bad. Even unpleasant ones have their place.” Fear and anger still claim prime seating in my brain, but reframing them as signals rather than enemies makes daily life feel a little more manageable. “Anger is just fear’s way of throwing a tantrum,” my inner monologue reminds me whenever I’m annoyed about running out of coffee or accidentally liking someone’s decade-old Instagram post.
Then comes the revelation that has slowly seeped into my day-to-day: “It’s just a thought. It’s not the truth.” Meaning, my brain lies to me constantly, and that’s okay. Life also offers practical guidance: count to five before responding, don’t compete in the “Suffering Olympics,” grieve beyond just death, and, my personal favorite, “If you let people walk all over you, someone will still complain you’re not flat enough.”
Life, when stripped of dramatics, is a series of small absurdities—awkward encounters, tiny victories, and quiet lessons hiding in the mundane. And somehow, that’s comforting. We’re all stumbling along, fumbling through choices and relationships, worrying too much, and occasionally surprising ourselves.
It turns out, perfection isn’t the goal. Oranges don’t need to be apples, relationships don’t need to be flawless, and we don’t need to have it all figured out. Life is messy, awkward, and sometimes brilliant in ways that even surprise us. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: show up, count to five, forgive yourself, laugh at the absurdity, and try again tomorrow.