Felix
It sounds like your struggling.  Their is a time for everything including reflection, sadness, uncertainty even the dark night of the soul. Perhaps this is a time of waiting and embracing uncertainty, life mystery?

“Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.” —Soren Kierkegaard.

“It seems a movement from certitude to doubt and through doubt to acceptance of life’s mystery is necessary in all encounters, intellectual breakthroughs, and relationships.”  “To hold the full mystery of life is always to endure its other half, which is the equal mystery of death and doubt. To know anything fully is always to hold that part of it which is still mysterious and unknowable. In our youth certainty elevates most anxiety on the conscious level, which may be why we cling to it so.”  -CAC

Growth always involves a dying

Sue Monk Kidd talks about the power of waiting.

What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. . . .

Creativity flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.

Perhaps this is a time of waiting. A waiting which isn’t passive as it requires calm intention and open engagement with life as it shows up. No need for answers, the questions may be enough.

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.
T. S. Eliot