What does it mean when I am very busy, but I still feel empty?

Joe's Blog--"My Weekend"

Friday we threw an office party for Matt and he sent us all home early afterward. I think he just wanted to get out of there and party, but it worked out great for me because I had a chance to grocery shop and pay some bills before going over to Tim and Jenna’s. It was good to see everybody and I got to finally meet Tim’s brother, who was home on leave from Iraq. Good times. Saturday I went running and stopped into Starbucks for a coffee afterward. Sarah and Chelsea walked in right when I was paying for it, so we sat and talked for a while. Sarah’s going to France for a month. I’m so jealous. Anyway, we all ended up hanging out at her place until I had to be at basketball. Our team did really well, for a record of 6-2, so far.

Saturday night I saw Kirsten, which is always good. We rented a movie and ordered pizza and just stayed in. Sunday morning we went to her showing at the Stone Cold Gallery. She worked so hard on those pictures, it was nice to finally get some recognition.

I babysat my nieces for the afternoon and that was great. They’re so cute and say such funny things. They think I’m a god or something. Sunday evening I went over to Brian’s new place. It’s really nice, lots of space, lots of character. He just bought a brand new 42” wide-screen plasma TV, and we watched the game on it, played poker and had some beers. Derek was there and it was good to see him, again. It was a good group of guys there. I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.

All in all, my weekend was great. It’s all great. In spite of that, I can’t understand why I still feel so empty. It’s like a void or something. WTH? I thought I got over this after college.

The above is fictional. Although based on an actual blog-post, the names, events and expressions have been changed. I have reconstructed the tone of the original post as accurately as possible.

While we each fill our lives with different people and events, Joe’s lingering feeling of emptiness in the midst of activity is something familiar to most of us, to one degree or another. We choose activities and relationships we find meaningful, because our minds and bodies cry out for purpose. But what does it mean when these things don’t deliver? Why, when I slow down or am finally silent at the end of a day, do I sense something akin to fear and not unlike sadness and a lot like loneliness, crowding in?