There’s a strange pressure that comes with growing up—this silent expectation that you should have everything figured out by a certain age. Your plans, your future, your identity, your “thing”. And if you don’t, it feels like you’re falling behind. I used to think everyone else had some secret rulebook that I somehow missed. The more I spoke to people, especially young people, the more I realised the truth: none of us really has it all worked out. We’re all improvising, learning on the go, pretending we’re confident while secretly hoping we’re making the right choices.

But learning to be comfortable with not having all the answers? That’s been a journey in itself.

There was a day not too long ago when I sat in front of my laptop, trying to plan something important for school. The cursor blinked at me like it was judging me for not knowing what to type next. I remember thinking, “Why don’t I know what I’m doing? Shouldn’t I have figured this out by now?” That moment of frustration spiralled so quickly into self-doubt, it was almost funny in hindsight. Eventually, I closed the laptop, made a cup of tea, and let myself admit something simple: I don’t know this yet. And that’s okay.

Somehow, giving myself that permission opened up space for calm. I wasn’t meant to know everything instantly. I was meant to learn.

And it’s not just big life things. Sometimes it’s the everyday stuff—like being asked a question in a group chat and having absolutely no idea how to answer, or being in a conversation where everyone seems to understand a topic and you’re just nodding along like you’re part of the Wi-Fi connection. I used to feel embarrassed in those moments. Now, I’ve started practising a new response: honesty.

One time, during a community project, someone asked me a question about a process we were planning to implement. Instead of panicking, I simply said, “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find out.” The world didn’t end. No one gasped dramatically. There were no raised eyebrows. In fact, the person smiled and said, “Same here—I’m figuring it out too.”

That one exchange softened something inside me. It reminded me that uncertainty isn’t a flaw; it’s a shared human experience.

The more I meet people—young, old, confident, shy, successful, starting out—the more I see how universal uncertainty really is. Behind every calm face is someone who has questioned themselves. Behind every confident moment is someone who wasn’t sure at first. Behind every decision is guesswork mixed with faith.

And there’s something oddly comforting about that. We don’t have to pretend to know everything. We don’t have to rush. We don’t have to hold ourselves to impossible standards. Life becomes gentler when we let ourselves learn as we go, instead of forcing ourselves to be experts from the start.

Some of the most beautiful paths in my own life came from moments where I admitted, “I’m not sure, but I’m willing to try.” That willingness is often more powerful than certainty. It makes space for growth, curiosity, and even joy in the mystery of things. It’s what turns confusion into discovery.

So if you’re reading this and feeling overwhelmed because you don’t know what’s next—whether it’s your future, your friendships, your degree, your purpose, or even just tomorrow—breathe. You’re not supposed to have it all figured out. You’re allowed to explore, question, pause, and learn slowly. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to ask for help. You’re allowed to grow at your own pace.

Being okay with not knowing it all isn’t about giving up. It’s about trusting that you’ll learn what you need at the right time, in the right way, through the right experiences. And sometimes, the things you discover along the way are far more meaningful than the answers you thought you were searching for.

We’re all learning. We’re all finding our path. And you’re doing better than you think.