Why Everything’s Going to Shit Before Life Gets Any Better

The universe has a knack for stirring the pot whenever you get too cozy.

Last Tuesday, as I walked the well-trodden streets of my hometown, I stumbled upon a street performer, a juggler.

I’d always admired the discipline and focus needed to keep those spheres aloft. As I watched, one ball slipped, disrupting his rhythm.

The crowd held its breath, expecting a fumble. Yet, with a deft, almost magical flick, he reclaimed control, weaving the errant rebel into his act with seamless elegance.

The Prelude

Life once moved in a predictable rhythm, each day a carbon copy of the one before. Steady like a Romanesque building — though truth is, even a Romanesque building exhibits some degree of oscillation.

But not my days.

I’ll do my best to describe the feeling for you.

You find yourself drawn into a vacuum machine where the following holds true:

Life just happens to you,

you don’t make life happen.

That’s what happens when you don’t take risks.

Nothing happens.

The Void

In these moments of emptiness and passivity, hours stretch into ‘eternity,’ losing all relevance — either hollow and vacant or compelled to be filled with something, anything.

But then, at night, as you lie in bed, the realization hits — another day has slipped away. Then a week. A month. A year. A lifetime.

Picture your next door neighbors. You endured long winters together. You celebrate yet another New Year. Except for a few truly memorable moments, time’s passage goes unnoticed until one day, you glance at their ‘little’ kid and say, “Old enough to drive already?”

Only mindful moments anchor time. Moments of conscious presence have the power to ground us and make us aware of the passing of time.

Otherwise, time slips by, imperceptible until too much of it has passed. You’ve got a ‘time leak’ in your life. Not because the hours rush, but because you haven’t done anything with them. At least, not something you’ll remember. You’ve been idle for too long.

That’s unfulfillment in action.

It sounds so contradictory, it makes me doubt whether I’m writing the right thing.

But yes. I think I am. At least, that’s how it felt to me. That’s how it still does.

Getting through each hour becomes challenging. Yet, days vanish like mysteries in your Bermuda Triangle, disappearing without a trace, leaving you to wonder where the hell they’ve gone.

“What have I done with them?”

Naturally, my heart yearned for more — like most hearts do, I guess.

The Transition

I too envisioned a perfect life. Perfect, of course, for me.

A life brimming with meaningful hours, indulging in activities I loved, living unbound, and making wise choices with my time.

But abruptly, this dream was shattered. Life, in its unpredictable manner, happened to me once again. Chaos ensued.

My mom landed in hospital, precariously clinging to life. I found myself grappling with my own health battles, the weight of my 9-to-5 job becoming nearly unbearable. And little did I know, this was only the beginning of my trials.

Suddenly, a business opportunity appeared out of nowhere. Seizing the chance amidst the chaos, I dove in. And I only did it because, when looking at it realistically, I wondered, how much worse could things possibly get? I felt I had little to lose. And that feeling can be a powerful force.

Driven by the desire to escape hell, I partnered with a coworker and friend to launch a fitness center.

Then, fate threw yet another curveball. My now business partner lost her job — at the same company where I worked, which also moved to another office that happened to be farther away. Our fledgling fitness center, a dream made concrete, stood on shaky ground as ceiling repairs drained our pockets and our spirits.

But transformation and a bit of struggle come in bundle, to the point you could say transformation is a byproduct of struggle — or is it the other way round?

It’s a cycle that only halts when you get sucked into the void, where a new struggle emerges, a different kind — it’s an agony of inaction.

In less than 30 days from my last predictable 24-hour frame, everything went to shit. I was living a life I couldn’t recognize as my own. My job, the shitty new office, my health deteriorating, the unexpected leap into entrepreneurship, the newfound fragility in my parents’ health, the fact that my job didn’t allow me to be with them, the surge of my own anxiety and worries — everything was alien.

The familiarity of my old life was nowhere to be found.

Stress became my shadow, darkening days once filled with ‘worry-free’ leisure.

Yet, I doubled down. I quit my job, stepping into a new realm of worries about being jobless. The nagging question loomed: what if the business faltered?

It’s not as if I would lose everything; I still had other small sources of income. But, all those ‘what-ifs’ were just killing me.

Redemption, Finally

The sensation of the anchor lifting sent goosebumps across my skin.

Shores of comfort were left behind, visible only until they became a mere dot on the horizon. The terror was palpable.

I found myself yearning for the simplicity of clocking out, leaving ‘problems’ at the office. Free evenings, fixed 100% vacations, weekends for family, friends, and myself. The comfort of my past life tugged at me, a reminder of what I had ‘sacrificed’.

What for?

Why had I deserted the shores of comfort? To get where?

Growth and discomfort are indeed strange bedfellows.

Deep down, I knew growth couldn’t bloom inside my former shell. Predictability is a hostile environment for opportunities to sprout. Real life doesn’t thrive there. It stagnates. And we both know that what stagnates, dies. Eventually.

Like stretching limbs that have been idle for too long, this rebirth was painful, but necessary.

I got the chance to see how life’s gears turn. A small change, and everything cascades into motion. You don’t need to overhaul everything. Just nudge one thing, and watch the dominoes fall.

Just ONE small thing…

Or else, you wait.

You wait for something to happen; for fate’s dice to roll. You gamble with time. Like I did for most of my life.

Besides, life moves in mysterious ways, as you well know. When it demands your attention, it finds a way to get it, often through hardships — illness, loss. If you settle into comfort, these are the methods life employs to jolt you awake, mind you.

But when you step up, brace for the rollercoaster.

For me, change brought a blend of hope and hardship. New allies emerged, ideas sparked, fortunes fluctuated. Yet, every step forward was met with a new test of resolve, and with it came a fresh sense of fulfillment. And yet more opportunities.

You struggle. You trust. You trust. You struggle.

When you trust the outcome enough to take that first step towards a goal — or perhaps you’re just bold enough not to care — many great things begin to unfold, along with a fair share of adversities.

And let me tell you, this was the first time I can truly say I TRUSTED.

I knew I had done my homework, I knew I was on the right track, and I knew there was much more out there for me to go and get. I just needed to believe it. For more than 10 years, I couldn’t. It probably wasn’t the time yet.

But magic happens when you get out there.

You get to know a different shade of yourself. You forge character.

Through the chaos, I unearthed hidden parts of myself, long submerged in the still waters of my existence. Resilience built from adversity, relationships strengthened under pressure.

Growth is the ache of a dormant muscle compelled into action; it’s sheer unease — at varying degrees.

With every little change, your inner GPS recalibrates your route. Suddenly, new paths open up, while some of your old ones vanish from the map. They’re simply no longer a natural choice for you.

Life, in its raw form — and speaking from the emotional viewpoint — is a delicate balance of struggle and faith. You struggle. You trust. You trust. You struggle. Simultaneously, though not necessarily in the same proportions.

Giving myself this chance opened up new opportunities, empowered me, and made me realize that this pain, too, shall pass.

Discovering that my previous stability was an illusion, a coping mechanism, was unsettling. Even worse was the epiphany that I’ve been deceiving myself all along.

We tend to cling to that false sense of security, luring ourselves into its trap.

Your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change. — Jim Rohn

A time dime

Let me share something curious that has been happening to me. Maybe my constant motion skewed my perception of time.

What used to be ‘my 24 hours’ — a subjective measure, as my 24 hours aren’t the same as yours — once neatly divided into hours, minutes, and seconds, now meld into a blurry stream.

My days, much like a quark, defy splitting.

I believed, naively, that away from the tick-tock of the nine-to-five, I’d indulge in time abundance. I thought I’d master this expanse of time. Boy was I mistaken. Instead, I find myself chasing time, trying to grasp it, make sense of it.

Each morning, I wake with a whole new day before me. As the sun sets, I find myself bewildered, feeling as though I’ve just opened my eyes.

At night, lying in bed, it strikes me — another day dissipated. Not because of its irrelevance, though, but because 24-hour days seem like mere time dimes. This time, however, I know exactly where those hours, days, and weeks went.

Many of these hours went into something I’ll remember, for sure. Simple things, like writing this story, managing our fitness center, spending more time with my aging parents, and taking memorable walks with my dog. Yes, I’ll rememeber that.

Time is a wild creature when let loose.

We rarely notice because it’s been tamed by routine. And in this new, uncharted life, learning to harness and make the most of it is perhaps the most vital lesson of all.

This is me, too

In the quiet of another fleeting day’s night, I lie awake, reflecting on my former life. I even entertained the notion of a ‘former me’, as absurd an idea as it might be.

I’ve discovered a strength I never knew I possessed. Every time I bent to the point where I could break, I didn’t. I bounced right back. You always find balance in the unexpected— if you give yourself the chance to do so, that is.

This is why everything’s going to shit. Because you need to learn to trust your gut. Life is not intended for you to remain docked in harbor…

“A ship in a harbour is safe but that is not what ships are built for” — attributed to John A. Shedd

Life wants you out there. It wants you to take risks, to grow that ‘confidence’ muscle, so it’ll test you. It’ll shape your character. Then, you’ll be ready for whatever comes your way.

So, as the first light of morning filters through the curtains, I make a silent promise to myself. I’ll be mostly grateful for today instead of yearning for the past or fearing the future. Because in this unpredictable, chaotic, beautiful mess, I’ve come closer to my true self. This is exactly where I’m meant to be. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thanks for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a great day!