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This Is Supposed to Be Life? , Clara Blick questions modern society and the routines that keep many people trapped — with unflinching honesty. The book examines everyday life from a critical perspective and challenges readers to confront issues like monotony, consumer pressure, and overproduction. Why do so many people feel empty, even though they seem to have everything? What role do social norms and unconscious habits play in shaping our lives? Chapter by chapter, the book takes the reader through a relentless analysis of modern life, exposing the illusion of progress and prosperity, and posing provocative questions about personal responsibility. Yet it doesn't stop at criticism: Clara Blick encourages self-reflection and invites readers to explore new paths toward meaning and inner freedom. An inspiring journey for anyone ready to break free from fixed perspectives and see their life through new eyes.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Imprint
This is supposed to be life?
Text and cover design:Clara Blick, based in Berlin
Distribution: Self-published
Creative Commons License:This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - NonCommercial 4.0 International License (CC BY-NC 4.0).The full license text is available at: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/
Terms of Use:You are permitted to copy, distribute, and publicly share this work, as well as create adaptations or modifications, provided that you credit the author/rightsholder and do not use the work or any derivatives for commercial purposes.
AI Involvement:This work was created with the support of artificial intelligence. The content was provided by the author, while AI assisted with structuring and phrasing.
The English version was translated from the original Was soll das für ein Leben sein with the help of AI.
Disclaimer:The information in this book has been carefully researched and reviewed. Despite the use of AI technology and human editing, errors cannot be entirely ruled out. The author assumes no liability for the accuracy, completeness, or timeliness of the content presented.
Berlin, April 2025
Introduction
This is supposed to be life? This question is becoming increasingly urgent.
We live in a world of abundance, where consumption is hailed as the royal road to happiness, and the pursuit of the newest, the fastest, the best dictates the rhythm of our daily lives. But do we truly feel fulfilled when we chase after all of it? Do we actually find what we’re looking for – or are we not, in fact, drifting further away from ourselves and from one another?
We are caught in a cycle that makes us believe more possessions equal more worth. Yet as our closets, storage spaces, and minds grow ever fuller, our true inner value is left behind – along with the sense of genuine fulfillment. The monotony of modern life, shaped by routines and constant acceleration, often makes us forget that we are free to live differently. Worse still: we grow indifferent, lose our ability to be moved by what truly touches us, to question, to stay connected to our own authenticity.
It is becoming increasingly clear that the way we live has reached a critical point. We can keep going as we are – and risk further damage to our planet and the societies we’ve built.
Or we can shift our thinking.
This transformation does not begin somewhere far off in politics or the economy – it begins with us, in small, everyday actions. It’s about our passion and our authenticity. The question is: are we willing to take responsibility and make small but meaningful steps toward a more sustainable future? Are we ready to realign ourselves and choose a different direction?
This is not a plea against progress, but for a new awareness in how we deal with what we have – and with what we truly need. It’s a call to use our freedom to shape ourselves and our world – with care, with heart, and with reason.
Societal Monotony
I despise people who are content with everything. Who say, “You’ll get used to it.”
That’s resignation.
This so-called getting used to it is the death of the spirit – the beginning of an endless spiral of monotony that forces us into a life without real highs or lows. A life where we lose ourselves in routines and habits instead of experiencing what life could be: spontaneous, rich, alive – something that challenges and inspires us.
Maybe it’s just my subjective perception, a shift that comes with age. But honestly, I don’t believe a healthy society should feel like this.
It seems more like something fundamental has started to crumble – as if the constant adaptation to routines and expectations hasn’t just dulled the individual, but has plunged the entire society into inertia. The aliveness we’re meant to feel as human beings is gradually giving way to pale, mechanical functioning.
This rhythm – this constant repetition of the same sequences – becomes the norm for many. The days blur together, the weeks pass, and we barely notice how time slips away. We’re so focused on surviving the everyday grind that we rarely stop to ask whether we actually feel okay in this routine.
It’s as if we’ve been set to autopilot, just functioning without much thought. Especially in office jobs, I often feel like every day just repeats endlessly, like it's an exact copy of the one before. The same coworkers, bringing up the same trivial topics. The same system glitches that we work around because the boss either looks the other way or deflects responsibility. The same lunch breaks where conversations rarely go beyond surface-level or dissolve into gossip monologues.
And then those absurd expressions like #HumpDay on Wednesdays or the ridiculous “Little Friday” on Thursdays.
As if empty phrases like that could change anything!
To me, that’s the blatant surrender to monotony – a desperate attempt to squeeze a drop of joy out of the dullness of everyday life. A grotesque celebration of our own powerlessness that only reminds us how tightly the week has us in its grip.
Every morning starts the same way:
The alarm goes off—often while it’s still dark—and yanks us out of sleep. Half-awake, we stumble into the bathroom, take a quick shower, get ready. Breakfast—if it even happens at all—is usually rushed. Maybe a coffee while standing, a piece of bread on the go, because once again, time is tight. Then off to work—into the office, the workshop, or the store. For hours, we sit, stand, toil, until the end of the workday approaches. But even then, there’s barely time to breathe: grocery shopping, cooking, maybe a bit of TV or scrolling through social media.
For families with children, it’s even more demanding: responsibilities don’t end when the workday does—homework, dinner, family logistics. There’s often little space for recovery before we collapse into bed, only to start it all over again the next day.
Even the weekend is often fully booked: shopping, cleaning, hobbies—and for those with some energy left, maybe going out or partying in the evening. More often than not, this partying is accompanied by alcohol or drugs—a desperate attempt to release the pressure of the week.
Then comes Sunday, the day to be “lazy,” to finally do nothing! The week’s goal is achieved! But the brief moment of rest doesn’t last long. By early evening, that familiar knot in the stomach creeps in, because we already know that the alarm will ring again mercilessly the next morning.
Many people adapt—because it’s easier, because it’s expected, and because we believe it’s the only way to make it through the day. But in doing so, we grow numb. Our creativity, our joy, and our curiosity about life slowly get dulled. The longer we submit to the routine, the more energy it takes to maintain the illusion that everything is fine.
In our constant effort to cope and meet expectations, we often lose sight of what really matters. It’s easier to look away and say, “That’s not my concern.” We retreat, become indifferent to what’s happening around us, simply because we lack the strength to change anything.
The feeling that nothing we do makes a difference pulls us into the monotony of daily life—and in that process, we quietly lose a part of ourselves. Sometimes I wonder whether the monotony of working life has gradually crept into our private lives as well—or whether we’re simply creatures of habit who feel safer in routine.
Either way, we build little bubbles around ourselves, convincing ourselves that everything is fine—or at least not that bad.
“Others have it worse.”
Inside these bubbles, life feels more manageable. It’s a kind of self-protection—a way to keep up the appearance of contentment, even though, deep down, we sense that something isn’t right.
Most people prefer to cling to the familiar—even if it makes them unhappy—rather than face the uncertainty of the new. Because it means leaving the comfort zone, questioning oneself, and facing the challenges that come with change. It’s easier to stay in the same old routine, even if it stifles our creativity and drains us of vitality, than to take the risk of discovering something new—something unfamiliar that might challenge us, but could also set us free.
And so we remain inside this bubble that offers a false sense of safety, rather than facing real life with all its highs and lows. Our everyday structures seem designed exactly for that: convenience.
Do nothing, take no risks—as long as it stays comfortable and pleasant, without major effort or challenge.
I’m convinced that this very convenience is one of the main causes of our unhappiness.
To put in real effort to create something of our own—be it a handmade piece of furniture, a written book, a carefully tended garden, a home-cooked meal, or a hard-won athletic achievement—brings a sense of fulfillment that pure comfort can never offer.
It’s about the act of doing itself.
In those moments, we feel that we are not merely consumers—we are the creators of our own lives.Jobs in which people create something tangible and meaningful often provide a deep sense of satisfaction. Craftspeople, artists, gardeners, chefs, writers—they can all look at what they’ve made at the end of the day and find purpose in it. They can see and feel the value and the impact of their efforts.
These professions challenge us, help us grow, and give us the sense that we’ve created something that matters.
In contrast, in many cases of anonymous labor—such as in factories or large corporations—people are responsible for only a tiny fragment of a product. Every movement is standardized, embedded into a massive production chain. The final product remains invisible to the individual—they don’t see what they’ve made, nor feel part of a greater whole.
That kind of work is exhausting, numbing, and robs people of the joy of personal achievement. The same is true in the social sector—in daycare centers, schools, nursing, or medical care.
These fields hold enormous potential for deep fulfillment, yet the daily pressure, bureaucratic obstacles, and chronic staff shortages often prevent real human connection. A strong doctor-patient relationship, for example, can significantly support the healing process—but how often is there time for that?
