Introduction
For a long time, I never understood what women were actually doing when they gathered together to chat about everyday trivialities.
Later, a friend taught me that simply engaging in such conversations helps restore one’s “energy.” Yet, I still couldn’t bring myself to do it—small talk remained just small talk, and for me, it was purely energy-draining.
Now, over two months after graduation, work pressure has been steadily mounting. I’ve tried every method I know: playing video games, scrolling through short videos, watching movies, calling friends for voice chats, exercising—nothing worked. I’m already on the verge of breaking down—and suddenly realized how deeply I yearn for someone nearby with whom I can simply talk.
Main Text
So a few days ago, I called my mom: “Mom, I’m really overwhelmed by stress—can you come stay with me for a few days?” She arrived the very next morning.
Once she arrived, my mom didn’t do much at all. We didn’t even discuss work. Instead, we chatted about those mundane, everyday things—“Have you eaten?”, “What would you like to eat?”, “How’s Auntie from East House?”, “What’s going on with Brother from West House?”—conversations I once considered utterly useless, yet now they’ve helped me immensely.
I began reflecting: if the content of these conversations hasn’t changed, then what has changed—causing my perception to shift so dramatically?
Clearly, I have changed. In the past, I disliked idle chatter because I was obsessed with “purpose”:
- Resting was solely to adjust my state, thereby “solving problems”;
- Chatting was only to discuss issues, thereby “solving problems”;
- Reading was only to acquire knowledge, thereby “solving problems.”
Every action had to serve the goal of “solving problems.” Any activity incapable of solving problems felt unjustified—and forcing myself to engage in such activities left me feeling “meaningless,” like idle chatting.
But recent work experiences have made me realize that some problems simply cannot be solved—or at least, not for a very long time—or perhaps not even through any of the methods I currently know. Resting doesn’t help; discussing doesn’t help; reading doesn’t help.
After exhausting every possible approach and finding none capable of “solving problems,” I grew exhausted. A profound sense of powerlessness settled in. I felt the urge to give up. Negative emotions began multiplying. I knew that once caught in this downward spiral, I’d remain in a terrible state for a prolonged period.
So I started rescuing myself: having tried countless times going left—with no success—I stopped pushing further left and instead tried turning right. Maybe that would work?
If every action oriented toward “solving problems” fails, then why not flip it around—what if I deliberately refuse to solve problems?
I began wandering aimlessly around town until my e-bike battery ran out, then returned home. I cooked—not to solve anything, but simply to cook. I chatted idly with my mom: “Have you eaten?”, “What would you like to eat?”, “How’s Auntie from East House?”, “What’s going on with Brother from West House?”
When I stopped trying to “solve problems,” my anxiety eased. My distress lessened.
And surprisingly, the “problems” gradually “resolved themselves.”
Conclusion
Trees are felled by their own wood; lamp oil burns itself out. Cinnamon is edible, so it is cut down; lacquer is useful, so it is tapped. Everyone knows the value of the “useful,” yet no one understands the value of the “useless.”
— Zhuangzi, “Human World”