5 Beliefs I’m Gently Unlearning in My Twenties (And What’s Actually True Instead)

🌥️ the big “what now?”

So… I’m in my late twenties, and lately, I’ve been carrying this question around like a second skin: “What now?”

I’ve done the things—moved countries, finished my master’s, made bold choices I thought would bring clarity. And yet, I still feel kind of… lost. Not in a rock-bottom way—just in that quiet, nagging “shouldn’t I have more figured out by now?” sort of way.

As I head into this next season of life, that pressure’s only grown louder. The milestones I thought I’d hit. The version of me I expected to become. It’s like everyone else got handed the manual for “proper adulthood,” while I’m still scribbling all over the margins.

Leaving behind the expat bubble I called home for two years only added to it. I miss what I built—my little world of community, comfort, and meaning. And if I’m honest, part of me feels like I undid all that progress.

But here’s what I’m starting to realise: a lot of this pressure? It isn’t actually mine. It’s old programming. Outdated beliefs. Unspoken rules I never signed up for.

So here are five things I’m currently unlearning. They’ve shaped the way I’ve seen myself for years—but I’m gently letting them go now. Maybe sharing them helps keep me accountable. And maybe, just maybe, you’re letting go of them too.

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💭 1. belief: perfection = worth

As an only child, I picked up early on that I had to be the one who “got it right.” No siblings to share the pressure, no backup plan. I figured that being perfect was how you stayed worthy—safe, praised, impressive.

At uni, I didn’t just aim high—I felt like I had to succeed. Even when I did well, there was always that lingering voice: “Could’ve done better.”

Now, as an adult, that perfectionism doesn’t show up as gold stars anymore. It looks more like overthinking everything, procrastinating on the stuff I care most about, and struggling to rest without guilt. ADHD throws in its own flavour—brain spirals, decision dread, and a constant undercurrent of not-enoughness.

“Perfectionism doesn’t make you feel perfect. It makes you feel inadequate.” — Maria Shriver

Reality: Progress Is Enough

These days, I’m learning that getting something done—even if it’s a bit messy—is far more valuable than waiting for perfect. Some days, the win is just showing up. I don’t need to tick every box or “earn” rest. My worth isn’t up for debate every time I open a Google Doc.

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⏳ 2. belief: life has to follow a timeline

I carried around this invisible checklist for years: finish uni by 22, career by 25, marriage by 28, house and kids by 30. It wasn’t written anywhere—it was just... assumed. Normal. Expected.

But then life did its thing—moving countries, surviving COVID, navigating identity shifts, all while juggling a neurodivergent brain that was never built for “standard milestones” to begin with.

Suddenly, that timeline didn’t feel like a plan—it felt like a trap. And when I didn’t hit the markers in the “right order,” I genuinely questioned if I was failing at being an adult.

Reality: Timing Is Personal, Not Prescribed

Some people peak in their twenties. Others don’t find their joy until well into their forties. There’s no expiry date on purpose, love, or self-discovery. I’m learning to trust that life unfolds exactly as it should—even if it’s slower, messier, or wildly off-script. I’m not behind. I’m just living at my own pace.

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🫶 3. belief: being liked is more important than being honest

For the longest time, I thought being liked meant I was doing something right. So I smiled when I was uncomfortable, said yes when I wanted to say no, and shaped myself into what I thought others wanted—especially at work.

It made me feel safe. Until it didn’t.

People-pleasing earned me short-term approval, but long-term burnout. I lost my voice in the process—blurred at the edges, burnt out, and barely recognising myself.

“Your job throughout your entire life is to disappoint as many people as it takes to avoid disappointing yourself.” — Glennon Doyle

Reality: Honesty Over Harmony

Now, I’m learning to choose myself—even when it’s uncomfortable. I say no more often, communicate more clearly, and trust that honesty—though sometimes awkward—is healing. Being liked is nice. But being true to myself? That’s where the peace is.

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💔 4. belief: failure = the end

For years, I stuck to the safe stuff. I followed the rules, ticked the boxes. If there was a structure—school, degrees, promotions—I could manage the fear.

But when I stepped into the unknown and started building things on my own? That’s when the fear of failure hit hardest.

It wasn’t one big crash, but a constant low hum—the belief that one wrong step would undo everything. That if I didn’t succeed, I never should’ve tried at all. And without a roadmap or external validation, even a small stumble felt like proof I was off track.

Reality: Failure Isn’t Final

Now I see failure as evidence that I tried. It’s not a verdict—it’s a redirection. Every wrong turn sharpens my instincts. Every “no” brings me closer to a better “yes.” Failure doesn’t mean stop. It just means pivot.

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🧠 5. belief: productivity = value

During the pandemic, I lived in overdrive—studying full-time, working across time zones, starting at 3am and surviving on caffeine and adrenaline. It made me feel useful. Like I had a purpose. Like I was doing enough to keep the uncomfortable feelings at bay.

But underneath that high-functioning, hyper-productive version of me was someone absolutely exhausted. I didn’t know how to slow down. I didn’t know who I was when I wasn’t doing something.

I truly believed I had to earn rest—that my worth was tied to how much I could produce or achieve.

Reality: Rest Is Not a Reward

Now I’m slowly unlearning hustle as identity. These days, productivity might mean replying to one message. Or it might mean doing absolutely nothing. Rest isn’t a luxury or a weakness—it’s life-giving. My value doesn’t shrink when I slow down. It was never based on output in the first place.

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🌻 you’re not behind. you’re becoming.

Unlearning isn’t a one-and-done job. It’s layered. Sometimes slow. Often messy. But also? It’s incredibly freeing.

These beliefs shaped me for years, and letting go of them hasn’t been easy. But I’m learning to be gentler with myself. To try again. To keep choosing truth over performance, even when it feels uncomfortable.

If you’re in a season of unlearning too, I hope you know this: you’re not behind. You’re just beginning again—and honestly? That’s brave as hell.

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still winging it

^{— namesnadia}

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