Finding Meaning in the Human Condition
28 May – written by Katrin Kemmerzehl – Blog
At certain points in life, many people find themselves asking questions they hadn’t expected.
Sometimes those questions arrive after something difficult has happened: A relationship ends. A parent dies. There has been illness, burnout, loneliness, or a period of trying to get through each day.
At other times, nothing dramatic has happened at all. Life may look much the same from the outside. Work continues. Family life continues. Responsibilities are met. Yet something begins to feel different.
You might notice yourself looking at old photographs and feeling unexpectedly emotional. A birthday arrives and leaves you thinking about time in a way you never have before. Your children become more independent. A move, a career change, or even a quiet evening can prompt questions that seem to appear out of nowhere.
You may find yourself wondering whether the life you are living still feels like your own.
Many people spend years adapting, coping, looking after others, meeting expectations, and doing what seems sensible or necessary.
Then one day a different question emerges: Is this enough? Or perhaps: When do I get to feel fully alive again?
Others reach goals they worked hard for, only to discover that the sense of fulfilment they expected never really arrives. They may feel restless, disconnected, lonely, or unsure why something feels missing when, on paper, everything appears to be going well.
These experiences can be difficult to talk about because there is often no obvious problem to solve. Nothing is necessarily wrong. Yet something no longer feels aligned.
The psychiatrist and existential therapist Irvin Yalom suggested that some forms of anxiety, sadness, emptiness, and restlessness are not only connected to our personal histories, but also to the realities we all share as human beings (Yalom, 1980).
We live knowing that life changes. Relationships matter and can be lost. Time moves forward whether we want it to or not. We make choices, and those choices shape our lives. We cannot completely protect ourselves or the people we love from uncertainty, disappointment, or grief.
Most of the time, we carry these realities in the background. At other moments, they come sharply into focus.
Existential therapy offers a space to explore what happens when they do. Rather than treating anxiety, uncertainty, grief, or loneliness as symptoms to overcome, existential therapy asks what these experiences might be telling us. What matters to us now? What have we been longing for, avoiding, sacrificing, or carrying alone? How do we want to live with the time we have?
At its heart, existential therapy is not about becoming a better version of yourself. It is about developing a deeper relationship with your own life, becoming more honest about what matters, more able to tolerate uncertainty, and more present for the people, choices, and possibilities that are already here.
Bringing These Questions Into Therapy
People sometimes imagine therapy as a place where they need to arrive with a clear explanation for what is wrong.
But existential therapy often begins with something much less certain.
You may feel anxious, disconnected, stuck in familiar patterns, exhausted from coping, lonely despite being surrounded by people, or dissatisfied with a life that appears reasonable from the outside. Sometimes there is no obvious crisis at all, only a growing sense that something no longer fits.
Therapy can offer space to pause and become curious about these experiences rather than immediately trying to explain them away or push through them.
Together, we might explore questions such as:
Have I spent much of my life adapting to other people’s expectations?
What do I actually want, rather than what I feel I should want?
What parts of myself have been neglected or pushed aside?
Why does life feel heavy when, on the surface, things seem to be going well?
What would it mean to live in a way that feels more genuine, connected, or meaningful?
In existential therapy, these questions are understood as part of being human. Existential therapist Emmy van Deurzen (2012) suggests that many of the struggles people bring to therapy arise not because life has gone wrong, but because living itself involves uncertainty, change, loss, choice, and the ongoing task of finding our place in the world..
Therapy becomes a place to explore these questions openly and thoughtfully. Some conversations may focus on long-standing patterns, relationships, or ways of coping that no longer feel right. Others may centre on identity, belonging, change, loneliness, freedom, or how you want to live this next chapter of your life.
Rather than focusing solely on solving problems, existential therapy invites a different kind of reflection: an opportunity to consider how you are living, what matters most to you, and what might help you feel more connected to yourself, your relationships, and your life as it is now.
Four Existential Realities We Encounter
Irvin Yalom (1980) described four central concerns that all human beings encounter in some form: death, freedom, isolation, and meaninglessness.
These concerns often sit beneath experiences such as anxiety, loneliness, grief, restlessness, or a lingering sense that something important is missing.
Talking about these realities can feel uncomfortable at first. Yet many people find that giving them attention brings greater clarity about what matters, how they want to live, and what they want to carry forward.
Death: Becoming Aware That Time Matters
Many people avoid thinking about death until something brings life’s fragility into focus: the loss of a loved one, illness, ageing, becoming a parent, or noticing how quickly the years seem to pass.
Alongside grief or fear, these moments often bring unexpected questions:
Am I spending my life in ways that matter to me?
What have I been postponing?
What kind of life do I want now?
People often arrive in therapy feeling caught up in routines, responsibilities, productivity, or the endless demands of everyday life. Then something shifts. What once felt important may no longer carry the same weight, while relationships, creativity, rest, honesty, or long-neglected parts of themselves begin asking for attention.
Both Heidegger and Yalom suggested that becoming more aware of our limited time can deepen our appreciation of life, drawing us back towards what feels meaningful and alive (Heidegger, 1927/1962; Yalom, 1980).
Many people find themselves returning to a simple but profound question: If time is limited, how do I want to spend the life I have?
Freedom: The Anxiety of Choice
There are moments in life when no clear path exists. A relationship is no longer working. A career no longer feels right. A boundary needs setting. An old identity begins to feel too small. We find ourselves standing between what is familiar and what might come next.
These moments can be unsettling. Part of us may long for change, while another part wants the safety of staying exactly where we are.
Many people notice this tension in therapy.
Someone may realise they have spent years becoming the person they thought they needed to be in order to feel accepted, useful, wanted, or emotionally safe. Another person may notice how much of their energy goes into managing other people’s reactions while gradually losing touch with themselves.
Questions begin to emerge:
When did I stop paying attention to what I actually want or need?
Why do certain changes feel so difficult, even when part of me wants them?
How much of my life has been shaped by trying to keep other people comfortable?
What would it mean to live in a way that feels more like my own?
Erich Fromm (1941) wrote about the “fear of freedom”, recognising that choice can open the door to growth while also bringing uncertainty. Emmy van Deurzen (2012) similarly describes human life as full of tensions and contradictions that can’t always be neatly resolved.
Over time, people often begin to notice where choice still exists in their lives. Sometimes it appears in significant decisions. Sometimes it shows up in smaller moments: speaking honestly, setting a boundary, changing a familiar pattern, or responding differently than before.
Rollo May (1981) captured something of this when he wrote, “Freedom is the capacity to pause.” In that pause, people often discover a little more room to choose how they want to live, relate, and move forward.
Isolation: Wanting Connection While Being Alone
Loneliness is not always about being alone.
Many people feel lonely while surrounded by other people. They may have relationships, friendships, colleagues, or family around them, yet still carry a sense of being unseen, misunderstood, or emotionally disconnected.
Some find themselves constantly adapting to other people’s needs while losing touch with their own. Others long for closeness but experience relationships as confusing, exhausting, or difficult to navigate. Many describe feeling slightly on the outside of things, never sure why connection seems easier for other people than it does for them.
For some neurodivergent people, including autistic people and people with ADHD or AuDHD, these experiences may feel especially familiar. Researcher Damian Milton (2012) suggested that misunderstandings often arise between people with different ways of experiencing and communicating, rather than existing within one person alone. What can feel like disconnection is often shaped by a gap in mutual understanding.
Over time, experiences like these can leave people feeling isolated even in the company of others. Yalom (1980) wrote about the deeply human tension between our longing for closeness and the reality that no one can ever fully know another person’s inner world.
People often carry this tension in different ways. Some become skilled at people-pleasing. Others hide parts of themselves, stay in one-sided relationships, struggle to be alone, or work hard to earn a sense of belonging.
Therapy can offer a different experience. Through a relationship built on curiosity, honesty, and understanding, people often begin to feel more seen and more able to show up as themselves.
Many also discover a different relationship with solitude. Connection becomes less about the number of people in our lives and more about whether we feel known, accepted, and able to be ourselves within those relationships. Over time, people often move towards relationships grounded in openness, reciprocity, and mutual care.
Meaning: Reconnecting With What Feels Alive
At certain points in life, people begin asking questions that can feel difficult to ignore:
What is the point of all this?
These questions often emerge during periods of burnout, grief, loneliness, transition, or emotional exhaustion. They can also appear after years of coping, adapting, meeting expectations, and doing what seemed necessary.
For some, the question arrives unexpectedly. Life may look successful from the outside, yet something feels missing. Others find themselves wondering where they went, having spent so much time looking after other people, managing responsibilities, or getting through each day.
Viktor Frankl (1984) believed that human beings can endure great suffering when they are able to find meaning in their lives. Meaning, however, is rarely something we discover once and keep forever. It often shifts and changes as we move through different chapters of life.
People find meaning in different places. It may emerge through relationships, creativity, nature, learning, spirituality, humour, caring for others, or living in a way that feels aligned with their values. Often, it appears in ordinary moments that help us feel more connected to ourselves and the world around us.
Albert Camus (1942/2013) wrote about the human longing for certainty in a world that rarely provides it. Yet his writing continually returns to the simple experiences that make life feel worth inhabiting: conversation, love, beauty, sunlight, laughter, rest, and moments of genuine presence.
As people begin reflecting on what matters, they often notice small shifts taking place. They speak more honestly. They reconnect with neglected parts of themselves. They create healthier boundaries. They become more willing to accept imperfection and more able to appreciate what is already here.
A meaningful life rarely emerges from a single dramatic decision. More often, it grows through small choices, repeated over time.
A life does not need to look extraordinary from the outside in order to feel meaningful from within.
Being Met More Honestly
At the heart of therapy is a relationship between two people.
Irvin Yalom (2002) described therapy as one human being meeting another. The therapist brings training, experience, and a particular way of listening, yet both people are still engaging with something deeply human: uncertainty, loss, hope, longing, loneliness, change, and the desire to feel understood.
Many people arrive in therapy carrying things they have rarely spoken about openly. They may be reflecting on ageing, grief, loneliness, identity, relationships, or a growing sense that they have lost touch with themselves somewhere along the way. Others feel exhausted from years of coping, adapting, or holding everything together for everyone else.
Over time, therapy can become a place where those experiences no longer have to be carried alone. As trust develops, people often find themselves talking more honestly about what matters, what hurts, what they hope for, and what they want from the next chapter of their lives.
Again and again, people describe the value of feeling genuinely heard. Not analysed or judged, but met with curiosity, compassion, honesty, and care.
Life rarely arrives at a point where everything feels resolved. Yet many people discover a greater sense of clarity, self-understanding, connection, and acceptance as they begin paying attention to experiences that may once have felt difficult to name.
Sometimes that is where change begins.
If you’d like to explore this, please feel free to get in touch.
References
- Camus, A. (2013). The Myth of Sisyphus. Penguin Classics. (Original work published 1942)
- Frankl, V. E. (1984). Man’s Search for Meaning. Simon & Schuster.
- Fromm, E. (1941). Escape from Freedom. Farrar & Rinehart.
- Heidegger, M. (1962). Being and Time. Blackwell Publishing. (Original work published 1927)
- May, R. (1981). Freedom and Destiny. Norton.
- Milton, D. (2012). On the ontological status of autism: The “double empathy problem”. Disability & Society, 27(6), 883–887.
- van Deurzen, E. (2012). Existential Counselling & Psychotherapy in Practice (3rd ed.). Sage.
- Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy. Basic Books.
- Yalom, I. D. (2002). Love’s Executioner and Other Tales of Psychotherapy. Penguin.
Katrin Kemmerzehl
I am a qualified psychotherapeutic counsellor in Newcastle upon Tyne.
Please get in touch if you’re interested in arranging a consultation.