How My Obsession with Mazes Revealed the Path to Self-Discovery

I don’t often share with many people just how much mazes occupy my thoughts. There’s something about the intricate paths and hidden passages that captivates me, but I’ve always kept this fascination like an open secret. It feels like one of those peculiar quirks that might raise eyebrows or draw puzzled looks if I mention it casually in a conversation.

Then, out of the blue, the term “Roman Empire” started popping up all over social media. It was a trend, revealing that men contemplate it at least once a week, sparking a weird collective realization in the internet community. Before long, it evolved into a sort of catchphrase, shorthand for anything that occupies the mind with unusual frequency.

Suddenly, it clicked for me: Mazes are my Roman Empire. It’s the subject that fills my thoughts when nothing else demands my attention.

As I navigated the twists and turns of growing up, I began to notice a subtle shift in my relationship with mazes. It wasn’t something I grasped at the time, but looking back, it’s as if the emotions stirred by these puzzles mirrored those swirling within my own life. The uncertainty, the anticipation, the frustrations — all of it seemed to parallel the highs and lows I experienced on my journey. In the intricate image of a maze, I found a reflection of the complexities of my existence, each decision echoing the choices I faced in reality. It’s funny how something seemingly trivial like a maze can become a metaphor for the deeper currents of my innermost thoughts and emotions.

Let me take you back to 1997, I just turned 5. On my birthday, I received an activity/coloring book. I remember eagerly flipping through its pages, drawn to a maze puzzle. Guiding the little kid to her fruit basket was a breeze, earning me praise from my grandfather. Feeling proud, I began creating my maze designs on blank paper. My mom asked why I was drawing so many lines. I said I liked mazes, but she ignored me. My mother isn’t the type of person who would care about my interests. She doesn’t pay attention like that.

In 2003, I was in fifth grade, and we had a field trip to a museum. It was probably the most boring part of the trip because it felt like we were just looking at the same things on every floor. That is until I saw a miniature maze under a glass table. I got so excited that I told my grade school friend that my dream house would be any house with a room overlooking a maze. She laughed; she thought I was weird. I didn’t say anything more.

As I navigate through my teenage years, I find myself still drawn to mazes. I often imagine various patterns in my mind and fantasize about the thrill of exploring a real one with my friends, laughing at our silly mistakes as we try to find the exit. These thoughts fill me with excitement and a sense of freedom, and I truly believe that somehow, someday, these adventures will become a reality.

There’s this guy I met when I was in college. We weren’t friends, and it never turned romantic. We just shared a class for a semester and chatted about random historical events. He was a bit weird, and I felt like he might understand my thing with mazes, he did. He found it interesting but then asked a question that instantly dampened my enthusiasm. He said, “What if you got stuck in the most complicated maze and couldn’t find a way out, and you just died there?” So dark, right? It scared me so much.

That was the start of how I began to spiral just thinking about mazes. I pretended to be fine, but secretly, I was consumed by the thought of it. What if the pattern changed every few minutes? What if no one could hear me from the outside? What if the path I took led to a more dangerous route? These thoughts overwhelmed me, and soon, I found myself dreading the idea of mazes. It felt like an awakened nightmare.

I am afraid of mazes. I don’t want to be inside it. I don’t want to figure my way out. Whenever I see one in a movie or if it’s mentioned in a book I’m reading, it turns my stomach upside down.

It’s now 2024, and I’m sitting at the airport, waiting for boarding time. I’m headed home after a week filled with intense emotions. I managed to fulfill one of my teenage dreams, but at the same time, someone I trusted let me down. I wasn’t prepared to deal with those feelings. So, almost automatically, my mind turned to thoughts of mazes, and then a sudden realization came in.

The way I’ve felt about mazes over the years mirrors my feelings about life itself. When I was young, it excited me. I wanted to explore and experience it, much like my enthusiasm for discovering new things as I grew up. Then came a phase where I yearned to immerse myself in a maze, which isn’t surprising considering I was a teenager at the time. I craved experiences and wanted to try new things.

Then I started to grasp that life isn’t easy. I began to question my decisions, wondering if I was on the right path. I realized that the world can be harsh, and every day you have to consciously shield yourself from its harshness. It was at that exact moment when I developed my fear of mazes. The unpredictability, the potential for countless mistakes, the fear of being alone — it’s all overwhelming, causing fear to grow out of something I once loved and found excitement in.

And somehow, it never stopped. It reached its peak. My fear of mazes made me realize that I fear so much of what’s to come. I tend to overthink, always anticipating the worst. I used to believe it was better to expect disappointment so it wouldn’t affect me as much when it actually happened, but in reality, I was just attracting that negative energy.

Now, I’d say I’ve become more aware. Thoughts are incredibly powerful; they can shape our lives. I can’t say I no longer fear mazes because I still do. However, I’m more open about it now, understanding that it may be reflecting something happening in my life.

The goal now is to confront those fears and focus on finding solutions. Life is like a puzzle anyway. It’s meant to be solved, and you should enjoy the process. You may make mistakes along the way, but each one is a lesson. Try different paths until you find the one that’s meant for you.

And if you ask if I ever watched The Maze Runner? Not its entirety. But I watched Saltburn because I didn’t see the trailer beforehand and no one told me!