When I Found Purpose, My Anxiety Finally Let Go

What I Learned About Anxiety After 20 Years of Searching for Meaning

“Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose.” - Viktor Frankl

I’ve spent many years anxious, tamping down my emotions with an antidepressant to run away from the sheer terror of the panic attacks I’d experienced.

Why was I having panic attacks? What was I so anxious about?

Who cares? Give me a medication so I never feel that again.

I know now that what I was experiencing was a lack of purpose. I was living with a deep, quiet dread I didn’t understand. It only worsened after my father passed away at 59, never having been able to retire from working since he was a teenager.

It felt like he never got the chance to explore his purpose—and I think a part of me feared I’d follow the same path.

I’ve realized that our minds need to know our place in the world and our purpose. Without these, our nervous system struggles to find calm and instead gives us signs telling us we need to figure it out.

Most people, like me, choose directly or indirectly to ignore these signs and numb them with substances, medications, and/or busyness.

I’ve learned that this further taxes your nervous system, continuing to stack pain and fear like Legos into your heart.

The Search for Meaning: Where My Anxiety Started and My Healing Began

Ever since I can remember being conscious and understanding the concept of a finite life, that people cease to exist, I’ve wondered about my place in the world.

It started out very rudimentary. “I really want to be a professional baseball player. How awesome would that be?”

But as I grew into my late teens, I started wondering more about life. Bits and pieces, here and there. It scared me. “Why am I questioning what I’ve been taught? You die and go to eternal heaven, duh.”

But I felt a deep, deep mismatch between this concept and my intuition. It didn’t make sense to me. How is that physically possible? If your body loses power, if it dies, how does your spirit, your soul, make it to this undefined realm? What if that doesn’t happen?

I didn’t figure out the answers.

I went to college and had my first panic attack at 18. That pretty much compartmentalized any questions my brain had and hid those away because I started living in fear of my body.

You can’t focus on self-actualization when your nervous system is focused on just surviving.

The other thing I had felt from a young age was that I was destined for something great. I had this deep belief inside of me that I had a gift and one day I would share that gift with the world.

I had no idea what this gift was, and not knowing scared me. But it was also exciting—because even while living the typical suburban life, I believed I’d break out and accomplish something grand to help people.

These are big questions for a teenage boy—especially in a world where men are expected to perform, achieve, and amass without ever showing fear or vulnerability.

And I felt alone in facing them. Not because I didn’t have people around me that could’ve helped, like my father. But because I didn’t yet have a voice to articulate my inner world.

As the years went by, as my antidepressant dosage increased and life happened, these questions and expectations didn’t disappear, but I connected with them less. I buried them deep in my subconscious.

And I believe that’s why I continued to suffer from anxiety. They didn’t go away. They were still there gnawing at my soul.

I can finally articulate this after tremendous personal growth. At the time, it was anxiety, a feeling of hollowness, and confusion around what I was doing with my life.

What I realize now is that I didn’t have an understanding of my purpose and place in the world.

That kind of pressure? That’s existential dread. Add on top of that society’s expectations of what I should be doing with my life and I felt lost, like I wasn’t living up to society’s expectations or mine.

I say this with deep appreciation for my 20-year journey: My anxiety didn’t truly quiet down until I connected with purpose.

I’m not just saying, “Ah yea, I feel less anxious. I have tricks I can do to feel better in the moment. Etc.”

I mean, I wake up every single morning, antidepressant-free, anxiety not on my mind, knowing why I’m on this planet. And I have a deep knowing that my mind and nervous system can handle anything that happens to me.

That is a nervous system working towards healing along with a deep sense of purpose. And it’s changed my life.

I’m confident purpose can change yours, as well.

Have you ever felt that hollow, anxious ache and wondered what it might be trying to tell you? I'd love to hear your experience in the comments. What helped you reconnect with purpose—or what are you still searching for?