Anyone who has ever found themselves staring uncertainty in the face can understand what it’s like to live in the “what-ifs.” We find ourselves at a crossroads wondering what each path might bring. We think: what if this bad thing is going to happen or what if I did this thing and it magically solved my problems? — the what-ifs work tirelessly to convince us that our future selves will be better than we are now. We scheme out the future, play every angle, hoping to become the person we’ve planned for in advance. But if the control is in our hands, then all of our failures, too, are what define us. And if it’s our failures that define us then we must do everything in our power to flourish: work harder, plan ahead, to do and become better. It’s a viscous cycle. 

Rainesford Stauffer, in her book An Ordinary Age: Finding Your Way in a World that Expects Exceptional, recognizes the weight of our missteps and misbegotten plans:

Perfectionists, or strivers, or hard workers, or whatever we’re calling them, are typically considered reliable and deadline-driven, resilient in their desire to try until they get something right, and are perceived to have it “together.” It signals we have a certain kind of value, to ourselves, to other people, to the ideal of what it means to be “good.” Maybe that’s why guilt melts us when we fall short. It turns us into an “if only” that has real consequences for our self-worth, and that touches every part of our lived experience. In chronic never-enough culture, every single thing, every decision or circumstance, contains a “what if”: What if you’d pulled that all-nighter–would that have made the difference at work? What if you’d gone out that time all your friends managed to, and you met the perfect partner, but instead you chose to stay in? What if you had a different body–surely you’d feel better about yourself? Oh, and by the way, what if you made peace with all these demons on top of doing everything else, because can’t we perfect not being perfect, too, in the era of enlightenment and do-it-all self-help? 

If I had any worth at all, it existed in “if.” It’s a dark kind of hope; placing your worth in your future self assumes that one day you’ll be someone worth being. No one wanders around truly thinking they are invincible against failure, but we do seem to collectively believe if we try hard enough, if we’re good enough, we should somehow be able to avoid it.

Stauffer, later on, pinpoints the exact human predicament:

We have the feeling that the only person who is going to catch us, should we need it, is, well, us.

The “what-ifs” don’t stave off or offset disaster. Future success can’t justify the present. They don’t succeed in providing us with hope. But perhaps the question isn’t asking what if, but rather, who? Who can save us from this restless search for our own creation of meaning and enoughness? Who can define us apart from our failures? Who is going to catch us when we are desperately in need of rescuing?

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