The Practice of Calling Back a Blurred Self
[PERSONAL INFO]
NAME: Thomas
AGE: 26
BASED IN MADRID, SPAIN
KEYWORDS: #boundary #self-recognition #pause
[INTRO]
Thomas is not used to explaining himself.
Instead, he spends more time noticing which questions accompany his days,
and where he tends to stop without realizing it.
He doesn’t have certainty yet, and he can’t say the direction of his life is clear,
but he doesn’t push away the confusion he’s in.
By staying in a state of not knowing, he tries,
above all, not to drift away from himself.
This interview is not the story of someone who has reached an answer,
but the present moment of someone who chose not to let go of his questions.
[Q&A.1]
Q. What is the thought that comes to you most often these days?
A. The thought that comes up most often is a question like,
“Am I living properly right now?”
It’s vague, but it keeps following me.
The day moves on as it should, and I do what needs to be done,
yet inside, I often feel as if my feet aren’t touching the ground.
Sometimes it feels like I’m heading somewhere,
and other times I wonder if I’m just circling the same place.
In the past, when thoughts like this appeared,
I tried to push them away, calling them “unnecessary worries.”
But lately, I’ve started to think that this question isn’t born out of laziness,
but might be a signal that I’m trying not to lose myself.
It’s not so much that I’m searching for an answer.
Rather, the fact that I’m holding onto the question itself
feels like proof that I haven’t given up on my life.
So whenever this thought arises,
I try to look at it a little more quietly.
[Q&A.2]
Q. Is there a point in your life where you feel you were putting in too much effort?
A. Looking back,
I think I spent a long time living with excessive tension across my entire life.
Thoughts like “I have to do well” and
“I can’t fall behind” kept my body and mind constantly on edge.
Every time I had to make a choice, I calculated first
— whether it was the right decision, whether I would regret it later,
whether I might seem lacking compared to others.
In that process, I rarely asked myself what kind of feeling it actually gave me.
Living with that much force, at some point,
left me in a state where I wanted to do nothing at all.
I didn’t even allow myself to say that I needed rest.
Now I realize that effort wasn’t about living well,
but about proving myself. And that effort was exactly what exhausted me the most.
[Q&A.3]
Q. What is the phrase you say to yourself most often?
A. Lately, the phrase I say most is,
“It’s okay. You don’t have to decide yet.”
I used to rush myself constantly.
I believed I had to choose a direction quickly, have a clear identity,
and live a life that could be easily explained to others.
Now, little by little, I’m accepting that staying
in a state of not knowing can also be a form of choice.
So when anxiety rises, I gently tell myself,
“You’re still in the process,”
“This confusion you’re feeling is also part of you.”
It doesn’t completely put me at ease, but at least I no longer push myself the way I used to.
That alone feels like a significant change.
[Q&A.4]
Q. If you could say something to your past self, what would it be?
A. What I’d like to say is,
“You were holding on better than you thought.”
Back then, I constantly felt lacking and believed I was behind everyone else.
Instead of trying to understand myself, I kept trying to change who I was.
Now I know that version of me wasn’t weak—
he was simply carrying too much at once.
And I also know that because of that confusion and wandering,
I’ve been able to become a little more solid.
If I could meet that person again,
rather than giving advice, I’d sit beside him and say,
“You’re not on the wrong path.
It may look slow, but nothing has disappeared.”
[EDITOR'S NOTE]
Thomas’s story is not a confession meant to prove something.
It is the record of someone who allowed himself to ask questions.
Before asking whether he is living well,
he looked closely at where he had been forcing himself too much.
His attitude of accepting pauses and uncertainty
not as failure, but as process, invites us to see identity
not as something to be completed, but as a present state.
There is no certainty, but the questions remain.
And the choice not to let go of those questions is what keeps him within his own life.
Perhaps identity is this
— loosening, just a little, the force with which we push ourselves forward.
