Discover your purpose in life. Determine the reason you wake up each morning.
Choose something that aligns with your strengths, passions, and the needs of the world. This is what gives life meaning.
My strengths and passions do not align with capitalist productivity, aka "the needs of the world." Any meaning I assign is secondary at best to doing things I hate just to survive, with little energy left over for what I enjoy.
Helping my neighbor with home repairs doesn't generate revenue. Giving someone a ride home to save them 2 hours on a fragmented and underfunded public transportation system doesn't generate revenue. Learning about a topic for the sake of broadening horizons doesn't generate revenue. Being a mentor for my nephew doesn't generate revenue. Talking a friend through a crisis doesn't generate revenue. Engaging with hobbies doesn't generate revenue.
I've been called "lazy" my whole life. Early on it was dressed up as "not working up to his potential" but it's the same concept. It was the 80s, I wasn't disruptive, and was intelligent, so it's really not a surprise that autism and ADHD went undiagnosed. School was like pulling teeth but I got through it. Made time for extracurriculars that I enjoyed but gave zero shits about homework. Had no desire to subject myself to more of the same at college so I went to a trade school and excelled. It took about a year before what I once enjoyed turned into burnout. Found a different track. Kept going. Did all of the things I was supposed to despite the struggles. It was never enough.
25 years later there's not much left but depression and deep-seated disillusionment. The reason I get up in the morning is because I'm still alive and would rather not piss the bed. And the only reason for the former is that I have no interest in hurting the few people that care about me. But I guess that just means I'm "lazy."
"Lazy" can go fuck itself. Right in the ear. With a rusty spoon.