Why We Sometimes Feel Unimportant (and Why It’s Okay)
Every night of my freshman year of college, I found myself lying awake with a crippling sense of anxiety.
“Would I ever get my chance?”
“Would I ever serve my country like I was supposed to?”
These were just a few thoughts I had spinning around in my head.
One and a half years later, there I laid, with the same thoughts on repeat, looking at the men to my right and left, all thinking the same thoughts. We were a group of infantry Marines sitting in Kuwait, somewhere off the border of Iraq. The misconception can be that we’re bloodthirsty because of the sense of adventure heading overseas, but the truth was we wanted to serve like the men from generations past and protect our country from what seemed to be a foreign enemy. We spent months in the most horrendous conditions preparing for what we thought was our destiny—to give purpose and meaning to all those months of training. But days went by and nothing changed. Then months came and went, and finally we were home again, after what seemed like a complete waste of time and loss of life. It didn’t compare to anything other than some of the scenes in the movie Jarhead. It all felt so utterly underwhelming.
Music without the noise
I felt pretty meaningless for a long time after. We all did. It wasn’t until recently that I was able to let it go, and it took a simple, real world example to shift my mindset. I play in a hardcore band with four other guys doing the same thing—starving to make it and to make something. Do you know how hard it is to get five, busy dudes in one area at the same time? We consist of a typical ensemble of vocals, guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer. What I discovered playing in a band was that when people don’t show up, that the music crumbles. Their void is very noticeable. Even more noticeable, is the fact that most of us can play another member’s instrument if they don’t show up, but it’s difficult, and still noticeable. When one member is missing, sure, the music can be made. But the sound will be empty.
Even more fascinating is that the tiniest parts are essential to produce the correct sound, and without them, the song isn’t as good. Every song has small but important notes that you may never even hear. But they’re there, and without them it’s hollow. Music is meant to be full, just like our existence.
Single notes may seem almost invisible within a completed song, but without all of those single notes, the music isn’t as full, just like our existence when a single person is missing.
Mahatma Gandhi said:
“Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.”
At times, what you’re doing may seem miniscule in the grand scheme of existence, but you have to do it, because nobody else will. Monotonous days of work and school that feel never-ending, or even just waking up, may seem so empty and without fulfillment. But with every little thing you do—no matter how huge or how small the impact is—there will be an impact in some way. That much I can promise you.
The Missing Piece
When I was younger, I wanted to end my life. I wanted to make everything stop. I’m glad I didn’t. If I did, the people out there who I’ve since met would have never gotten the chance to interact with me. Maybe I mean something to them. The again, maybe I don’t. But you never know the impact you can have on someone’s life that day. Maybe the smallest interaction is the difference that makes them hold on for one more day. Like the notes of music, this life needs you. We all need you. We need you to play your part, because nobody else can, and no one else will. I could try, but it won’t be as good as you. Play your part.
Perhaps you’re wondering where I am today after feeling meaningless after my years of military service.
Well, I’m here.
I realized that maybe I didn’t do what I had pictured in my head, or planned for in my life, but at least the men I served with know I care for them. While I was in the service, I got a tattoo of E.T. in that bicycle basket as Elliot pedaled away with their silhouette against the moon. That tattoo made the guys laugh in some of our roughest times. While it may seem strange to reflect on a silly tattoo, if I hadn’t got it or played my part in the military, those needed laughs wouldn’t have existed or cheered them up.
Taking this lesson to heart, these days I work one-on-one with some amazing people who are bright points in my life. They’re men and women diagnosed with autism and need a lot more help than what most people are willing to provide. Had I decided to end it all and miss playing my part, I’d never have the chance to help them.
So today, I want to encourage you
To wake up,
To put on your shoes,
To tell someone you love them,
To give someone a hug,
To write your thoughts in expressive ways,
And to play your part,
Because nobody else will.
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