WE’RE TOO OBSESSED WITH HAVING IT FIGURED OUT.

THE TAKE / LIFE

VOL. 01 / ISSUE 003

We treat uncertainty like proof that something is wrong. Maybe not knowing what comes next is simply part of becoming who we’re supposed to be. There’s a question we start getting asked when we’re way too young to have a real answer.

What are you going to do with your life?

At first, it’s innocent. What do you want to be when you grow up? Where do you want to go?

What do you want your life to look like?

And when you’re a kid, answering is easy.

You just say something.

An athlete. An actor. A doctor. A musician. An astronaut.

Whatever sounds exciting that week.

Nobody expects a five-year plan.

Nobody asks about the logistics.

Nobody wants to know your salary projections.

You’re allowed to dream without explaining how you’re going to get there.

Then you get older.

And somehow the question changes.

It stops being: “What do you want?”

And starts becoming: “Why aren’t you there yet?”

Suddenly, we’re supposed to know.

The career. The relationship. The city.

The money. The house. The timeline.

The person we’re becoming.

We’re supposed to have this perfectly constructed blueprint for a life we haven’t even lived yet.

And if we don’t?

We start wondering if we’re behind.

The strange thing about being “behind” is that it requires believing there’s somewhere you were supposed to be by now.

But who decided that?

Because we all have these invisible timelines in our heads.

By this age, I should have accomplished this.

By that age, I should have met somebody.

I should be making this much money.

I should know exactly what I’m doing.

I should feel more established.

I should be further along.

Should.

That word has probably caused more unnecessary anxiety than almost anything else.

Because most of the time, we aren’t comparing our lives to reality. We’re comparing them to an imaginary version of how we thought life would go. And life almost never follows the script. The career you thought would happen immediately might take years. The opportunity you were convinced was right for you might disappear.

Someone you thought would be in your life forever might not be. You might discover something you love that wasn’t even part of the original plan. You might end up somewhere you never expected to be and realize you can’t imagine being anywhere else.

That’s the part nobody really prepares you for.

Sometimes the detour becomes the road.

But when you’re obsessed with the destination, every detour feels like failure.

And social media certainly doesn’t help. Because now we’re not only measuring ourselves against the life we imagined. We’re measuring ourselves against everybody else’s highlight reel.

Someone got the job.

Someone bought the house.

Someone got married.

Someone started the company.

Someone booked the role.

Someone took the trip.

Someone reached the milestone you’ve been chasing.

And even when you’re genuinely happy for them, a tiny voice can still show up:

What about me?

That’s human.

But the dangerous part is what happens next.

We take somebody else’s chapter and use it as evidence that our story isn’t moving fast enough.

Except we have no idea what happened in the pages before the picture they posted.

We don’t know what they lost.

How long they waited.

How many times they failed.

How uncertain they felt.

We just see the announcement.

And compare it to our process.

Maybe that’s why uncertainty scares us so much.

Because uncertainty doesn’t photograph well.

There’s no Instagram post for:

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but I’m trying.”

No trophy for: “I’m closer than I was last year, but I’m still not there.”

No big announcement for quietly becoming better. But that doesn’t mean nothing is happening. Some of the most important periods of our lives probably won’t look important while we’re living them.

They’re the years we’re learning.

Failing.

Meeting people.

Taking chances.

Changing our minds.

Getting things wrong.

Discovering what we actually want instead of what we thought we were supposed to want.

And maybe that’s not wasted time.

Maybe that’s the work.

I think we’ve convinced ourselves that successful people eventually reach this magical point where everything makes sense. Where doubt disappears. Where the path becomes obvious.

Where they wake up every morning completely certain they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.

I’m not convinced that place exists.

Maybe everybody is figuring it out.

Some people are just further along in certain parts of the story. And maybe the goal was never to have everything figured out anyway.

Maybe the goal is to know enough to take the next step.

Not the next twenty.

Just one.

Take the opportunity.

Make the call.

Write the thing.

Go somewhere new.

Meet somebody.

Try. Fail.

Adjust.

Try again.

Because you can spend so much time trying to make sure you’re choosing the right road that you never actually start walking.

There’s something freeing about admitting:

I don’t know.

I don’t know exactly where this goes.

I don’t know what my life looks like five years from now.

I don’t know which opportunities will work.

I don’t know which ones will fail.

I don’t know who I’ll meet.

I don’t know which plans will change.

And maybe I don’t need to.

Because uncertainty doesn’t automatically mean you’re lost.

Sometimes it just means the story hasn’t happened yet. And isn’t that kind of the point?

If we already knew every place we’d go, every person we’d meet, every opportunity we’d get, every mistake we’d make and exactly how everything would end…

what would be left to experience?

Maybe having it all figured out isn’t the goal.

Maybe we’re supposed to leave a little room for life to surprise us.

So I’m trying to ask myself a different question.

Not: “Do I have my life figured out?”

But: “Am I still moving?”

Am I learning?

Am I taking chances?

Am I becoming better?

Am I paying attention when an unexpected door opens?

Because if the answer is yes….

maybe that’s enough for right now.

You don’t need the entire map.

Sometimes you just need enough courage to take the next turn. And trust that you’ll figure out what comes after it.. when you get there.

YOUR TURN

Do you think we put too much pressure on ourselves to have life figured out?

And maybe the harder question:

What would you do differently if you stopped worrying about whether you were “behind”?