I didn’t watch Gilmore Girls until I was 25 or 26 I think (shame I know!!), one of my closest friends told me I should 100% watch it because I’d love it and she was right. I searched on reddit “why do people love Gilmore Girls?” and this answer came up: because it combines fast-paced, witty dialogue with the cozy, nostalgic escapism of a tight-knit small town. It’s also very whimsical.

And then there’s Rory. Straight A student, always prepared and always striving. She loses sleep over a bad grade because she cares and always wants to do her best. She has standards and she holds herself to them. And we love her for it, probably because to some extent we recognise something of ourselves in her.

The high achiever who is never quite satisfied. The person who finishes something and immediately thinks about what could have been better. We see it as ambition, but lately I’ve been thinking about whether we’ve confused two different things: being hard on yourself and wanting to improve.

the toxic side of hustle culture

There’s a whole cultural narrative that’s been telling us for years that the inner critic is a character trait and that self-criticism is what keeps you sharp. And if you feel good about your work you’ll get too comfortable which means falling behind.

Hustle culture took this and amplified it. Sleep less, do more, rest is for the weak, your competition is working while you’re not. The inner monologue of not enough became aspirational, almost something to be proud of. If you’re not hard on yourself, you’re wasting your potential.

The bottom line is that it feels that kindness towards yourself and high standards cannot coexist. Can they?

we need more self-compassion

Dr. Kristin Neff is one of the leading researchers on self-compassion and she has spent decades studying this. Her research consistently shows that self-compassion is actually a more effective motivator than self-criticism.

In one study, self-critics made significantly less progress toward their goals than others and reported procrastinating more. Her research shows that harsh self-judgment creates fear of failure. And fear of failure makes you hesitate and give up earlier than you otherwise would. In the end, the inner critic that you thought was keeping you accountable might be slowing you down.

Learning about this distinction felt like a lightbulb moment to me. What it means is the motivation that comes from self-criticism is the motivation driven by fear, whereas the motivation that comes from caring about your work is different, it makes you want to improve because you want to do better.

Now the question is…how to tell the difference?

the important distinction

Having high standards is not the same as being hard on yourself. One is about the bar you set for the work and the other is about how you speak to yourself when you don’t reach it.

You can care deeply about doing a good job and hold yourself to a high standard, want to deliver something great, stay up late because it matters to you or going the extra mile… and not punish yourself when it’s not perfect because you know that failure, and imperfection are normal and part of life.

Rory eventually figured this out too. The same self-criticism that drove her to excellence also paralysed her at times. The pressure she put on herself didn’t always make her better, sometimes it just made her afraid to try.

Wanting to improve and caring about your work are both great things. But there’s a difference between the voice that pushes you because you care and the voice that tells you you’re never good enough. One makes you better while the other just might be keeping you stuck.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

The summer I barely saw my friends. The summer I worked almost every weekend (either on my stuff or client work). The summer I drove mostly to the gym and back home instead of to the beach. The summer I lived again with my mum at 31. The summer I obsessed about content and felt like I couldn’t switch off. The summer I questioned every decision and fought every insecurity.

If you ask me how my summer was, I’d say it was the opposite of a typical summer, it didn’t have the long sunset walks at the beach or spontaneous night outs with friends.

Maybe I could tell you I spent the summer working but I also have to tell you that I had come out a career break that gave me the space to think and to recharge. So having closed that chapter, I craved having this deep focus and going so hard on something that I was passionate about. In some ways, this summer was about doing the work for what the next months can become.

The thing is, I also had to make a choice and think how badly do I want the thing that I’m pursuing? Even without having a clear vision of what it can become, but betting on it potential of it. Being so obsessed about making it work that you don’t leave anything to chance and if others call you lucky…well, you know that luck happens when preparation meets opportunity.

I don’t want all my summers to be like this though. It would be exhausting and I also don’t think you can go super hard on something without taking proper breaks or proper rest. But with so much change going on lately, I felt that I just needed to be in one place (home) and focus on what I wanted to build. Focus and doing the work with the least distractions possible.

A friend asked me: “don’t you feel lonely though?”. Not really, I didn’t feel lonely and I didn’t have FOMO seeing friends going out or enjoying their holidays because I know why I was doing it for, and I am also the type of person who enjoys spending time alone, which made being less social easier.

Maybe to some my summer was wasted, or boring or “just work”. To me it was exactly what craved and what I wanted to do. It was an intentional focus sprint (I think I can call it that) with the realization that you can’t have it all at once.

Maybe fall will be softer, maybe winter will have more holidays, events and girl dinners. My calendar isn’t fixed and that freedom is worth working hard for. Again, you can’t have it all at once but you can move through it as seasons that demand more or less output from you.

So if I had to tell you about my summer of 2026, I’d say it was very character building and I loved it.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

This version of “dream life” is the ultimate version of freedom shown in different ways: freedom to quit your corporate job and build something on your own. Freedom to leave it all behind and be a digital nomad doing the thing you love. The freedom to decide what your schedule looks like any day of the week.

At some point you start to wonder whether you actually want it or whether you’ve just seen it so many times it started to feel like you should want it. I can’t blame you, because I question myself about this over and over.

But this is nothing new, is it? We’ve always borrowed our ambitions from somewhere familiar. Now it’s through the algorithm but psychologists have been writing about social comparison since the 1950s, this idea that we evaluate ourselves and our lives by looking at the people around us.

Before the algorithm it was our parents expectations, our neighbours’ and friends’ or our cousins’ choices. We absorbed what a good life was supposed to look like from the world we knew around us.

So it seems that the medium changed, but the behaviour didn’t. We just went from a small pond to an ocean.

the algorithm dream

Before, your reference point was limited to the people you actually knew, whereas now it’s millions of strangers sharing with you the best version of a life you’ve never lived.

Scroll long enough and a specific vision of freedom starts to feel inevitable, almost like the obvious next step. But when everyone wants the same version of freedom, it poses the question: is your dream life still yours?

what it looks like when you’re living it

I’ve been asking myself that same question. And I say this as someone who, from the outside, might look like she’s living that life. I left my corporate job last year and I took a career break to pause and to travel. I started creating content and post career break, I decided to try build something on my own. On paper it probably ticks a few of the algorithm dream boxes, even though I try sharing the journey and not the curated aesthetic.

Still, the reality always feels different. I loved my time as a digital nomad but I don’t think I could be one, because I missed having my own space. I’m working harder than before because I know that in order to build something that works, I need to put in the work.

The algorithm packages this life as freedom and aesthetic, but the reality is messy, uncertain and unglamorous most of the time. And we just need to do a better job sharing that.

so how do you know what you want

That’s why figuring out what you want probably never felt so complicated. It’s not just the algorithm showing us new possibilities, but it’s also the fact that the traditional career path stopped making sense to many of us. The one our parents followed and we were sold growing up: get a stable job, buy a house, tick the boxes, call it success.

We’re questioning everything at the same time we’re being shown a thousand alternative versions of a life we could be living instead. It’s a lot of noise to navigate.

Which is why I think the most important question to ask yourself isn’t whether your ambition came from the algorithm or from your own head (because honestly, at this point, who can tell). It’s whether the life you’re building is fulfilling and meaningful to you.

And if you’re trying to get clearer on what you want, I created Unstuck (a 21 day challenge) that will help you figure out your next steps. It’s a combination of daily questions and small actions to help you understand what’s external noise and what’s the thing you truly want.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

But maybe that’s a lot of pressure to put on a person, especially when life keeps changing you whether you planned for it or not.

changing your mind

We hold people, including ourselves, to views and opinions they may have moved on from. Like when a friend says something once, and it becomes the thing they said forever.

So when someone changes their mind and sees things differently now, the reaction is often confusion or even frustration.

Wait, but you said... I thought you believed... That’s not really like you, is it?

As if changing your mind is a betrayal.

I see it as a sign of self-expansion, where you took in new information, processed it and learned something new from it.

We’re wired to grow through new experiences, new people, new places, new conversations that spark a little something in us. You travelled to a new country and it exposed you to a new culture. You went through something hard and learned from it. You met people along the way that shaped how you think about life.

I’ve felt this over the years when moving abroad and starting over in a new city where no one knows you and you need to make new friends and build a new life. It humbles you and makes you grow fast, eventually changing. But I prefer to call it growth.

So of course you’re not the same person you were before. You shouldn’t be. And I think that’s because change feels like a small loss. You’re leaving parts of your old self behind - which feels a little like heartbreak.

walking contradictions

There’s also this pressure to be consistent in who you are as a person, which I guess makes you more reliable (and trust me, I value consistency in everything). But sometimes we go so hard on ourselves and forget that we are walking contradictions in the best way.

You can be ambitious and want to slow down. You can love your work and resent it on the same day. You can be confident in what you’re building and full of self doubt about whether you’re making the right decisions. You can crave freedom and stability simultaneously and feel the pull of both.

I don’t know about you but I feel these contradictions every day and sometimes it makes it hard to know which of those voices I should listen to. What does it mean? Am I overthinking again? Maybe I just need a break, or maybe I need to work harder.

It’s exhausting to feel them. But I’m realising it’s more exhausting to try to ignore them and pretend they’re not there. Because they don’t really go away.

Maybe the answer isn’t to resolve them, maybe it’s to accept that they’re both true at the same time and that’s okay. That you can have two opposing feelings and still know exactly who you are and what you want.

Is there a balance? I don’t know. But I think there’s something quite beautiful about navigating a life that doesn’t fit perfectly into a single narrative. Because neither do we.

We’re supposed to pick a lane and stay in it. I’d say try as many lanes as possible and break some hearts. Be contradictory and give yourself permission to change your mind when you need to.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

So if you’re reading this and thinking about making a change because you’ve outgrown a certain part of your life, this is for you.

Also a small disclaimer that I’m not writing this from the other side with all the answers and convictions. I’m writing it from the messy in-between, as someone who’s done it more than once but is still figuring it out. There are a few things I know to be true and I hope they help you as they’ve helped me in my journey.

1. acknowledge the end

Before you start a new chapter, you need to come to peace with the fact that that means the end of another one. And we know that endings are uncomfortable at times and we’re not really sure how to sit with them.

There’s usually this feeling inside you, or a quiet voice that’s been getting louder for a while. Maybe you’ve outgrown the job, the city you live in doesn’t feel like yours anymore. Or maybe the version of yourself that made sense in that context has stopped making sense. Something inside you is signalling that it’s time for a change, which also means it’s the end of a chapter.

2. trust your gut

We say “trust your gut” like it’s easy and predictable, right? Well.. it’s not, especially when your gut is telling you something inconvenient and uncomfortable, something that would require you to change your life around or take a risk that doesn’t come with many guarantees.

But your gut is worth trusting because it’s the accumulation of everything you know about yourself: what you need, what drains you and what brings you joy.

So I’d say the trick is to not be impulsive. Take time to process those feelings, to understand what’s really going on and to slow down enough to hear what your gut is saying. To sit with the feeling rather than immediately trying to make sense of it.

3. stop asking everyone what they think

This one might be hard when you are the kind of person that asks all your friends and family for their opinion. It comes from a good place and of course you want to talk to the people you love. Of course you want input from the people who know you best.

But the people closest to you normally want the safest path for you, they don’t want to see you struggle or full of doubts. So they’ll gently steer you towards the known and the stable path and the sensible thing to do.

I deeply believe that the more opinions you collect, the more confused you’ll get. Everyone is filtering your decision through their own experience and version of what a good life looks like.

So keep the circle small, talk to the people who know you well after you already have an idea of what you want to do. And then trust yourself more than any of them, because only you know why you’re doing what you’re doing.

4. talk to people who are doing the thing you want to do

On the other side, talking to people who are doing the thing you want is one of the best pieces of advice I can give you. This is about perspective and collecting new information that might help with your decision.

Find someone who’s living the version of life you’re curious about. Someone who made a similar leap, who moved to the city you’re thinking about, who went freelance, who changed industries, who started over at 30 or 35. And just ask them about it - what was it like? What’s working for you now or worked for you when you started?

Yes, it’s awkward to ask these questions to a stranger but most people are willing to have that conversation and they’ll do more for you than any amount of overthinking can. When you talk to people who are doing the thing you want, suddenly it stops being theoretical and if they’ve done it, why can’t you?

5. ask yourself “what’s the worst thing that can happen”

What’s the worst thing that can happen if I do X?

When I speak with someone who’s also navigating change, I always tell them about this question because it was this specific question and the realization that comes with it that triggered me to leave my job and take the leap.

When you’re scared of making a move, your brain fills in the worst case scenario with something vague and catastrophic: “this won’t work”, “I’ll fail”, “I’ll regret this decision”. But most of the time, when you sit down and think it through - really deconstruct and go through all those fears - the worst case is not as bad as you think it is.

Sometimes the worst case is just ending up back where you are now, staying in the same path doing the same thing. Which means the actual risk is smaller than it feels. And whatever comes from taking the leap, even if it doesn’t go to plan, you’ll have learned something, built something, become someone slightly different from who you were before – and isn’t life fuller because of those moments?

The thing that’s keeping you stuck is probably not the worst case scenario itself but the uncertainty that comes after making the decision. But the only way through that is to go and do it – you’ll figure it out as you move forward.

I’ve learned that starting over isn’t a one-time thing, it’s more of a skill. And like any skill, it gets a little less terrifying every time you do it (no matter how annoyingly small you start).

You don’t have to have it all figured out before you begin, you just have to be honest to admit that where you are isn’t where you want to stay.

That’s all you need to start.

One last thing - if you’re in the “I know I want something different but I don’t know what yet” stage, I created something that might help here. It’s a 21-day challenge called Unstuck and it’s designed to help you get clearer on what you actually want and build a plan around it.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Now I feel like a lot is happening and, yet, I still want more.

I’m working with clients and I’m creating my own content. I’m doing outreach and managing projects and trying to put a price on my time. By now I’ve given myself a structure, some days it works and most days it doesn’t because something else I didn’t plan for comes along, or a task took me 1 hour instead of the 30 minutes I had slotted in.

I’m also not proud to admit (but this Substack is my journal at this point) that I’ve noticed that my mood is dependent on the outcome of my work. If I hit my two main priorities for the day I feel calm and in control. If I don’t, I’ll carry the stress of knowing tomorrow I’ll have more to do, the feeling that I should have just pushed through and done it.

I’m learning to manage that – I guess recognizing it’s happening is the first step.

Surely I’m not the only one but I feel like there’s no way to switch off either. When I’m not working on client projects, I’m working on my own content and personal projects which I also treat as work. When I’m not doing either I’m thinking about both.

Every idea and every conversation ends up living rent free in my head and it sparks new ideas. And I think that’s part of being really in it and wanting it to work.

But I can’t help but sometimes think it would just be easier to get a job. It doesn’t mean I want it but it’s normal to contemplate the idea, right?

Because there are moments where I wonder if it’s going to work. If my work is good enough and if I’m doing enough. And when you’re self-employed the only constant is your own judgment of your own work. So I’m learning to trust mine more and more.

A few weeks ago I was talking to my best friend and she asked how things were going.

I told her what I always tell myself - I can see the progress, but I also feel like I’m nowhere near where I want to be and there’s still so much to build. And she said something that actually comforted me in that moment, and now I go back to that conversation when I feel like I’m spiralling without a reason for it.

She said: you could have chosen any other path and it would have been easier. You chose the hardest one from all the options you had in front of you.

And I thought “yeah, I really did that, didn’t I?”. Not necessarily as an excuse to go easy on myself, but as a reminder that the reason this demands so much is because it does. The hardest path demands the most, and to make it work I can’t take it lightly.

So I don’t. I live and breathe it, I overthink it, I give it my best shot every day. And if I do that, I know I’m really trying.

In the past four months, I’ve learned more about myself than in the past 2 years at my job. I’m doing things I didn’t think I could do. Every week I go a little further than I thought I’d be able to and there’s something really good about that - even when it’s immediately followed by the feeling that it’s still not enough.

All of this to say that things are working and I’m proud of that. But I also want more, and I’m impatient, and I know it takes time. Oh well...

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Ps: If you’re in the early days of a new chapter and it feels somewhat like this, send me a message. I think we’d have a lot to talk about.

But knowing where we are now and where the world is heading, does this question even make sense anymore? I have a feeling it might be a little outdated and that it’s time to question it.

let's take it back to 1928

So let’s take it back to the start. The five-year plan was introduced by Stalin in 1928 as a tool to industrialize the Soviet Union, and it was so apparently successful that after World War II, governments around the world started adopting it. And then corporations adopted it too. And then somehow, it trickled all the way down to HR interviews asking you to map out the next half decade of your life.

So it looks like we took Stalin’s economic planning model and made it a personality trait for the modern days - interesting.

tunnel vision disguised as ambition

I was going back and forth in my mind, and I don’t think I ever really had a five-year plan defined. Most times I knew the direction I wanted to go, but I’ve never been too rigid about it. What’s always been important to me (almost like my compass) is that I keep challenging myself, keep growing and keep saying yes to things that scare me a little bit.

Perhaps that’s why things have worked out in ways I couldn’t have imagined (or planned for). Like moving abroad, having literally dream job opportunities and pivoting when they stopped making sense. I realize none of that would have happened if I’d been too attached to a version of my life I’d mapped out years earlier.

That’s why I am slightly against a rigid five-year plan. Yes, it can give you direction but it can also give you tunnel vision. Imagine you get so focused on the destination you planned that you stop noticing new opportunities around you – and that’s where you really miss out.

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what neuroscience says about it

I came across something interesting while writing this essay and I learned about cognitive flexibility, which is the brain’s ability to adapt thinking in response to new information. It is linked to better problem solving, more resilience and, ultimately, better life outcomes overall. On the other hand, neuroscience tells us that cognitive inflexibility is associated with higher anxiety and depression.

Which makes sense when you think about it. If our brain is built to adapt, rigidity or inflexibility sort of becomes a risk as it limits our ability to respond and adapt under new circumstances.

in the age of AI

Five years ago none of us had Claude or AI agents built into their daily workflow. New jobs that are emerging currently didn’t exist then. So, in five years from now things will look far more different to the point that it’s hard to tell what that landscape looks like.

In that context, having a rigid five-year plan might just be a limiting approach. I believe the people who will thrive are those who stay curious, keep learning and can pivot when things change around them. Adaptability isn’t a soft skill anymore, it’s a requirement if you are ambitious and want to keep growing.

keep the vision, ditch the rigidity

None of this means you shouldn’t know what you want. In fact, you should know what you want your life to look like in a few years’ time. Having a direction for your business, in your career, and in your personal life helps you stay oriented – it’s your north star.

And a sense of what kind of life or work you’re moving towards, as well as a bigger vision for yourself, it’s very different from a rigid plan. The vision keeps you focused and in-check but how you get there stays open, and it’s something you figure out along the way.

At least that’s how I see it. I’d rather know what I’m building towards and stay loose about how I get there, than be so committed to a specific path that I can’t see other possible opportunities in front of me (that may end up being better outcomes).

So perhaps next time someone asks you where you see yourself in five years, the answer could be: I have a direction and vision for how I want my life and work to look like, but I’m staying flexible on how I get there.

Or we can collectively cancel this question (maybe it’s time) <3

See you next Monday,
Mariana

I’m still working on that part.

what the fairytale looks like

What I mean by fairytale is the internal belief that you can work towards building something meaningful of your own. Where you don’t have to spend the best hours of your day on something that doesn’t fulfil you. I think the fairytale is partly naive and partly “a different kind of ambition”. The kind that’s harder to explain at dinner table when someone asks what you do and you’re still figuring out how to answer that.

When I left my job, I left a good salary, a structured life and the financial stability that lets you book a holiday without thinking twice. That’s a lot to say goodbye to, but choosing a different path doesn’t make it easy and I think that’s the part that gets left out of the story.

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the corporate ceiling

The thing about financial stability in a corporate job is that it comes also a ceiling. You can’t get past a salary band, there’s limits and rules and a system you play by. Ultimately, it’s a trade of your time, creative inputs, skillset (and sometimes a version of yourself you slowly stop recognising) - in exchange for the stability: a salary that always comes at the end of the month.

Different story when you’re self employed. In fact, there’s no ceiling which sounds like freedom (and a fairytale), but it also means the floor isn’t guaranteed, because if you start from zero, you’re building both at the same time.

where I am right now

This is where I am right now - in the “building phase”. The part between having left the old life and not yet having fully built the new one.

I have ideas and projects I am working towards. I am building new systems and skills. I have clients and exciting work. Yet the tradeoff is much bigger than before. I can’t really switch off and I can’t slow down, not in this phase.

Building from zero sort of takes everything you have to give: your time, your energy, your mental space, your patience with yourself. And at times that makes you question what you’re even building towards. On a hard day, that feels like I’m not doing well enough or not doing enough, that it probably won’t work. That maybe I’m not made for this.

But the other times (which still quantify for the most part), I wake up excited and part of me genuinely believes it will work out. “It will work out”, I tell myself. It’s just a matter of time and effort and showing up.

the cost of choosing differently

So again, it’s about being in the messy middle. Which maybe isn’t a sign that things aren’t working but realistically, it might just be the price of entry. The cost of having no ceiling. The pursuit of a fairytale.

The reason the messy middle is hard is precisely because what you’re building has no limit -which means there’s no map either. You’re figuring it out as you go, on your own timeline, with no one telling you you’re doing it right.

The fairytale and the financial stability - I still want both. Now I’m in the part of the story that comes before they coexist. Most days, that feels worth it and on some days it feels hard.

Both are true and part of the journey, and I think that’s okay.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Maybe that comes with the territory of posting content online. You start thinking of moments as potential content when you should just be enjoying them for what they are.

I’ve been creating content for about a year now and it still feels a little embarrassing at times. Like the vulnerability hangover you get after sharing something deeply personal and wondering who’s reading it and what they think.

So my question is: when does sharing your life online stop being authentic and start being more like a performance?

which version of you do you show

I’m not very sure either.

I think in a way we’re all different versions of ourselves depending on who we’re with. I’m one person with my family, slightly different with my friends, someone else when I’m working. We adapt, we read the room and adjust accordingly. That’s not being inauthentic, it’s just human nature and actually a sign of emotional intelligence.

So when it comes to “how do I show up online and what content is relevant?” you do get to choose. There’s no room to read (at least not until you’ve built an audience) so you can decide which version of yourself to put out into the world while at the same time staying true to yourself.

Recently, I’ve been overthinking how I show up here because so much has changed since I started. Ten months ago I was documenting leaving my job and figuring out what came next. That felt natural to share because it was urgent and raw and it was an exciting new chapter – leaving everything behind to travel and explore the world.

But I’ve entered a new chapter and I’ve been finding it difficult to translate that into content. The transition from “I left my job and I’m figuring things out” to “I’m self employed and this is what I do” are different things and they require showing up differently I guess. And I haven’t quite figured out how yet.

oh so you’re an influencer now

Creating content is also something I find really strange to talk about in a group of friends. I’ve heard a few times: “Oh so you’re an influencer now?” and every time someone says that I feel this instinct to correct them. “No, not really”.

When we think of influencers maybe we think of a curated feed, showing the perfect moments and an aesthetic life and I don’t want to be that person online. I try to document the journey, figuring things out in public and maybe showing that a different path is possible for people going through something similar.

But I also understand why it’s confusing to them, in the same way that it’s still new to me too. There are sides of me that friends who’ve known me for years are seeing for the first time. Sides of me I didn’t fully know were there either.

Mel Robbins has this quote that says “your social media is not for your friends, it’s for you and your dreams and your self expression. It’s for the people that need you to find you.” And I think that’s very true. Your content is for the person scrolling who doesn’t know you yet, who might be going through something you’ve already lived, who needs to see that someone else is figuring it out too. And maybe your friends aren’t that audience which is completely okay.

staying authentic while everything keeps changing

A few weeks ago when I was questioning whether to start talking more about personal branding on my content which is a topic I’m obsessed about, I got a message from a follower that said: “you should post what you want and what you love (…) you’re evolving so it’s natural that your content evolves with you.”

She hit the nail on the head.

It’s not about choosing which version of you to share in order to stay authentic, you stay authentic by not being afraid to evolve publicly. By sharing the journey as it is, not as you wish it looked or as you think it’s supposed to look at this stage. And that’s the reason why I started in the first place.

The embarrassment doesn’t fully go away I guess. The weird feeling of catching yourself thinking “is this content?” probably won’t either. But maybe that discomfort is actually the thing that keeps it real you know? Maybe the moment it stops feeling vulnerable is probably the moment it stops being real. Or at least that’s how I see it.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Lately my feed is full “leaps”: people quitting their jobs, taking breaks, starting their own business, becoming full-time content creators. And I love seeing it – I’m sharing my version of it too and I find it truly inspiring watching someone back themselves. It makes you believe that maybe you could too, that maybe you should.

But the landing, the post-jump part, after the excitement settles and real life kicks in- that’s much harder to put into words or to show on your feed. And I’ve been thinking about why.

not all landings feel the same

The first thing about landings is that they can look completely different depending on where you jumped to.

Some people jump and land somewhere that still feels familiar. At a different company or in a new industry. But with structure that you recognize and know how to navigate because you’ve sort of done it before. It’s still an adjustment but it’s not completely disorienting. You know how to be in that world even if this particular version of it is new.

And then there’s landing in self employment or starting something else from scratch - and that’s a completely different experience. None of the systems are the same. Not the way you measure progress or the way you structure your day. Everything that used to be given to you (think of the structure and the clarity of a job description) you now have to create yourself. It feels less like moving into a new house and more like arriving at a construction site and realising you’re also the one who has to build it.

I read this quote that says “you jump off a cliff and you assemble an airplane on the way down.” That’s how I feel right now. Post career-break I can say I’ve figured some things out and now I’m figuring out others. But everything changed and it does feel exactly like I’m assembling the airplane mid air. There is no plan B, it just has to work.

And then there’s the landing that keeps moving. Where you touch down somewhere, realise it’s not quite it, keep going and try something else. I’ll call it a “progressive landing”. It’s not a fixed arrival but more like a journey within the journey (which takes a lot of self-awareness).

why the landing gets shared less

So why is the messy in-between so much harder to share?

My theory, based on lived experience, is that when you’re in the middle of a rocky landing it’s hard to know what to say and how. The chaos is real but it’s difficult to articulate when you haven’t made sense of it yet. You feel uncertain, unresolved, and putting that into words feels much more vulnerable than sharing the leap.

That’s partly why I’m writing this essay. I find it hard to share the process and the frustrations of starting over but I also think there’s something important being lost in that silence.

Because if all we see is the leap: the brave act of quitting and announcing it to the world, and we skip straight to the part where people made it to the other side, we’re missing the most valuable chapter of the story. We’re missing the “how did she get there?”. The back and forths, the failed attempts, the resilience and discipline it took to get there.

And that’s what needs to be shared more otherwise it’s so easy to keep romanticizing the leap or to think you’re the only one who finds it this hard and therefore, you’re not meant for it.

still-mid air

Going from a corporate career to self employed is one of the biggest changes I’ve ever made. I’ve moved countries 3 times and it doesn’t even compare. So it’s also one of the hardest things to explain to someone who hasn’t done it, even to people close to me – let alone out there for the world to see.

I’d say I’m still mid-air assembling the plane but I’ll try to be better at sharing the how, the process and the frustrations.

Because the airplane doesn’t assemble itself and if you’re mid-air right now too, I hope it helps to know you’re not the only one building and improvising as you go.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Some days I’m all in on building something of my own with the delusional thought that it might just work. Other days, I contemplate the idea of having a salary and a team again.

Every version of me wants something else. And depending on the day, they’re all quite convincing.

It reminds me of the Midnight Library book (which I recommend if you’re amidst an identity crisis). It explores this idea that somewhere out there is a version of your life where you made a different call and everything looks slightly better from where you’re standing. The grass of every unlived life, perfectly green. But is that true?

the pull

Despite contemplating other options on bad days, I’m pretty set on the version of myself I chose and want. At least I’m set on trying it and on properly committing to it. I even have a little card on the back of my phone that says “insist till the end”. It’s my reminder to stay committed because in some of my previous lives I feel that I quit too soon.

I think in a world where possibilities are endless, where social media makes it so easy to think “I could be living this life”, it is difficult to stick to a plan, or a path.

Choosing and then showing up for your choice is hard. Especially on the slow days, the uncertain days, the days when another version of you is pulling loudly in a completely different direction. On those days it’s very easy to wonder if maybe you got it all wrong.

the version I’m choosing

The version of me I’m choosing now is the one trying to build a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks on the outside. Self employed, with work I care about and space for my personal projects and things that matter beyond work.

The trade-off is no safety net and no fixed salary at the end of the month. Just the belief that if I give this a proper try it might actually work.

I’m learning that comes with its own kind of pressure though. When you work for yourself you are the only person responsible for making it happen. There’s no team to carry the weight or cover for you. It’s just you, every day, figuring it out.

allow it to play out

So sometimes I catch myself questioning my decision and having intrusive thoughts. “Maybe this won’t work. Maybe I should change direction. Maybe one of those other versions of my life was the right call and not this one”.

But how do I know if I’m only just starting? We expect success to happen the moment we start doing something, but it’s not like that. Someone I follow here said recently “the day you go the gym for the first time is not the day you’ll do a pull up”.

That’s the thing about starting over and choosing a new path: you’ve made a choice and that deserves 100% of your commitment. Not a half-committed version of you where you’re already half looking for the exit after two weeks in.

give it time

You have to allow it to play out and put real effort into it. You have to see what it becomes before you decide it isn’t working.

And if it genuinely doesn’t work, then you can decide again - backed with real information you didn’t have before, and not because you had a bad Tuesday.

As in the Midnight Library, you can always be someone else. You can always be doing something different. That feeling doesn’t go away even when you’re set on a direction. Maybe it’s not supposed to because having doubts is human.

But you chose this. So give it the chance it deserves before you move on.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

the overachiever tax

I hope this is not too heavy for a Monday morning but I wanted to write about mental exhaustion that comes with being someone who wants more from life. Who is curious, wants to learn and feels a little restless.

Like your brain never fully lets you rest and is always scanning forward, always finding the gap and busy spotting the next thing you’re not doing enough of.

Maybe we can call it the overachiever tax? The price you pay for being ambitious and craving progress. And yes, it’s exhausting.

The paradox of trying hard and feeling like it’s not enough

It’s not that ´I’m doing nothing´ and waiting for things to happen to me. I’m trying hard but my brain decides maybe I’m not or tells me what I’m doing is not enough.

Most of the time, I finish a task or project and immediately think about what’s next. In a nutshell, my effort ranks lower than the gap between where I am and where I want to be. To the point where I sometimes envy people who just care a little less, it must be nice to have more peace of mind.

And then there’s the comparison bit when you see someone putting in less effort and getting more visible results and you just think “how?”. I don’t mean it in a in a jealous way, but in a confused way where you start questioning whether you’re doing it wrong.

I guess it gets worse if you’re in the middle of a new life chapter or if working on a new project – which I am. So that gap just feels too big at times: you’re putting in the work and not seeing the progress you hoped for. Or at least not yet, at least not so visibly.

So your brain interprets that as not doing enough. Which is wrong and, deep inside, you know it. But try telling yourself that at 11pm on a Sunday when you’re still going through the list of things you didn’t get to the week before, half exhausted and half convinced you wasted your time somehow.

impatience at its best

Most of the time when I feel like I’m not doing enough, that maybe I could be more productive or push myself harder I try to pause.

And while writing this I remembered a quote I love that says ‘ambition without action is anxiety’. Luckily, the other way is true: action cures anxiety. What I mean by that is the spiral gets less loud when you’re doing stuff that moves you forward.

Action is proof and every time you do the thing, even the smallest thing, you’re giving your brain evidence that you’re not standing still.

so what do you do with it

So when the spiral kicks in, the only thing that helps me feel calmer is looking backwards (for evidence) instead of forward (the gap I still have to go). I mentally scan for facts: what have I actually done? What exists now that didn’t exist three months ago?

I guess that’s what I wanted to leave you with. That if you’re an ambitious person and you’ve been trying to move further, I am sure something in your life has moved. Maybe not as fast as you wanted, maybe not in the direction you expected. It might still be a work in progress. But hey, take the small wins and don’t forget them.

The ‘I should’ voice probably isn’t going away, but that doesn’t mean it has to be the loudest voice in the room.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

And that feeling made me think deeper about the invisible 30s timeline: the life checklist nobody handed us but somehow we all know exactly what’s on it and we let it haunt us.

the checklist nobody wrote but everyone’s following

Apparently there’s a name for it in psychology and it’s called “the social clock”. The idea that society has an unspoken schedule for when things are supposed to happen: finish studying, start your career, get into a serious relationship, buy a house, maybe have kids. All of it with an implied deadline somewhere around your early 30s.

I feel like in our 20s we can get away with “figuring it out” because it’s part of it, you’re experimenting and have so much to learn. But somewhere between 29 and 31 there’s a really big vibe shift where figuring it out starts to feel like falling behind.

the external pressures

And social media doesn’t help. Someone you knew from school just bought a house or just had a baby. Someone else just got a promotion that made you wonder what you’ve been doing with your time. We know comparison is pointless, we know everyone’s on their own path but still do it anyways.

Shouldn’t our early 30s be for turning lessons into wisdom and dreams into plans? Why do we dream less, and instead, spiral more about what we haven’t achieved yet?

reminder: life isn’t linear

I turned 31 yesterday, and according to the invisible timeline’s standards I couldn’t be more off track. At the same time, this past year has been one of the most important years of my life.

I proved to myself that life isn’t linear and that I could choose differently. I made big decisions, lived through the chaos of it and came out the other side knowing myself better. Well, maybe I am a little wiser in the end.

So what should we do with these all-consuming thoughts that we’re falling behind? I don’t think we can fully escape it. It’s too embedded in how we were raised and what we see every day. But I do think we can start to notice when it creeps in and makes us feel anxious.

When you’re feeling behind you can ask yourself: behind according to who exactly?

31 feels strange this morning but I’m also excited. If last year taught me anything it’s that off track and on the wrong track are not the same thing. And I’ll do my best to remember that <3

See you next Monday,
Mariana

When I stop to think about it, so much has happened and yet I feel like I’m nowhere near where I want to be, which is a strange feeling.

In the beginning, I felt so excited about not knowing what would happen after, about not having a fixed path but all the possibilities ahead. Was I too naive or do you need to be naive to do something like this?

So I’m going to tell you my story of the past 12 months and why I’d do it again.

who am i if i’m not working

First the identity crisis.
When you’ve always centered life around your career and when your job was such a big part of your daily life (routine, sense of purpose and how you answer the “so what do you do?” question at a dinner), you take it away and you’re left with an uncomfortable void. Okay but who am I now?

I realized I also cared, more than I wanted to admit, about what others would think. Would they get it? Would they think I was being reckless for starting over at 30? Navigating through these thoughts took time.

the beautiful chaos of it

Then the chaos of moving out and living out of a suitcase.
Almost one year after leaving Germany and my apartment, all my stuff is still in a storage unit and I haven’t seen it since. I’ve moved between Airbnbs, hotel rooms, new cities and I’ve learned what it means to be a digital nomad.

No fixed address and no fixed routine, just the effort to create one that anchors the week when everything else keeps changing.

At some point the instability became the structure. Some days it felt freeing and some days I just craved a home and not having to pack again.

the money thing

Even though I planned financially for my career break – I got a severance package and I had savings I could tap into - watching money leave your bank account and nothing coming in is a strange feeling when you’ve been financially independent for most of your adult life.

Going from a very good salary to nothing is a big adjustment, and it comes with the kind of anxiety that’s hard to explain because from the outside this was my decision and even though I had a solid money plan, it still made me spiral at times.

so what’s the trade off

I think there’s always a trade off and the sooner you realize that, the faster you move forward. By that I mean that even when you’re making the right decision for yourself, you’re giving something up, and I think it’s important to be honest about that rather than pretend it’s all freedom and adventure.

I traded a good job, a great salary and a good apartment for new experiences, to explore new places, to reinvent myself and find out what’s on the other side. Yes, I’ve also found freedom and it’s hard to let that go now.

one year later

One year later, I’m still experimenting. I’d describe this feeling as the constant chase for something you’re not fully sure of yet, but you know that if you just keep going it’ll eventually make sense.

That takes more time and more resilience than I thought. But through all of this, I keep thinking: “if this doesn’t work, there’s always a job to go back to, there will always be something”.

And when you think about the fact that most of us will be working until our late sixties, is taking a year or two to experiment, to live differently and to figure out what you want really that crazy?

I don’t think so, not even close.
And that’s why all of this is worth it.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Too nice, too quiet, too long

Looking back at my twenties, I was reliable and good at my job but I also waited to be noticed instead of making my work impossible to ignore. I softened asks, I said “sorry to bother you“ more than I should have and I didn’t really know how to negotiate. I was, in the most well-meaning way, too nice, and I didn’t like it.

So I tried to change that. Turning 30 and going through a career pivot helped me break out of that pattern. In the process, I understood 3 important things: 1) that waiting until you feel ready is a trap, 2) that asking for what you want is not the same as being difficult and 3) that taking up space is not the same as being too much.

This is bigger than just us

I know it’s not just me - this is incredibly common. A Harvard study found that even when women scored exactly the same as men on a task, they still described their own performance less favourably. And LinkedIn data shows women are 14% less likely to apply for a job after viewing it than men are because they think they don’t match the skills 100%.

I wonder if it’s a women problem alone or a system problem too? Remember the Barbie movie monologue that made every woman in the cinema cry? That. But knowing where it comes from doesn’t mean we can’t decide to do something about it.

The shy girl's guide to betting on yourself

In an attempt to break that pattern, there are some things I’ve been training myself to do differently:

• Think more like a man. Sometimes I ask myself: would a man overthink this much or just go for it? Like applying for the job you’re 80% qualified for or just sending a two-sentence message instead the three-paragraph one sitting in drafts for days.

• Ask for what you want without over-explaining it. Again, no need to add the long context before the actual ask. I find this a difficult one but I’ve been practicing, and surprisingly people respond better to that than you’d think.

• Lean on your strengths and transferable skills. You probably have more relevant experience than you’re giving yourself credit for. You have skills you’ve built across different contexts and you need to frame it that way.

• Invest in yourself. Curiosity is a competitive advantage and the people who keep learning and keep stacking skills are also creating options for themselves.

On learning to see visibility as a skill

For the longest time I thought visibility was for a certain type of person: the ones who are naturally confident and extroverted. I was happy to do good work and let it speak for itself. But good work that nobody sees doesn’t really speak for you.

And although it doesn’t come naturally to me, it’s something I’ve been choosing to do more of. This newsletter is part of it, so is creating content and, in a way, freelancing. Because the cost of not being visible is the missed opportunities, the rooms you don’t get invited to and the yesses you aren’t getting.

The good news is it works the other way too. Every time you do it, it gets a little less scary and that’s enough to keep going.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

She was meant to go on holiday with one of her closest friends but she just couldn’t bring herself to commit to it. Her friend was supportive of the career change but didn’t quite understand why the holiday was suddenly so complicated to book.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now because most of us have probably been on both sides of that conversation at some point.

Why our brains hold on to old versions of people

When we know someone well, we build a picture of them in our head - who they are, how they think and behave. And that picture tends to stay fixed, even as the actual person in front of us changes.

It seems that updating the mental image of someone you’ve known for years is genuinely hard to do because our brains default to the version they’ve always known. So it makes sense that when something big changes there’s a gap between who you’re becoming and who the people around you think you are.

Inside change vs outside change

There’s also something else that makes it interesting which is the fact that the person going through change experience it from the inside, whereas the people around them are seeing the outside, and that can look confusing or inconsistent.

Research in social psychology says that we tend to judge ourselves by our intentions while others judge us by what they observe.

So my friend who can’t commit to a holiday right now isn’t being indecisive or difficult, she’s just in a different headspace. And her friend might still be holding on to the image of who she was six months ago.

Some friendships that evolve and others won’t

But let’s be honest, not everyone gets it. Some friends will be flexible enough to absorb who you’re becoming: they’ll be curious about it and ask questions instead of making assumptions.

Others will keep going back to the old version of you, maybe because it’s who they’ve known for so long or maybe because your change reminds them of something they haven’t done yet.

And I think that’s okay. Not everyone will grow with you at the same pace and not everyone is supposed to. Figuring out which ones are which it’s part of the process too.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

I don’t know which type of person you are when it comes to packing but I’m the one who likes to be prepared and pack more than I actually need because god forbid I want to wear the black top I left at home.

Also, I knew I’d be in Bangkok for one month but wasn’t sure what came after so good to have options, I guess? Which made me think: what is it about having many options that we crave so much?

More options, more noise
Over the last 3.5 months I could only wear what I had packed and although I felt limited in reality I didn’t need more and it simplified my days. I don’t remember choosing outfits so fast. And it made me think about how much mental energy we spend on choices that don’t actually matter. We think more options means more freedom but sometimes it just means more noise.

And without wanting to make this piece about packing and fashion, it made me think how easy it is to make ourselves busy with things that aren’t our priorities, it’s the same with everything really (like scrolling Netflix for 20 minutes and ending up rewatching something you’ve already seen). And in reverse, when we focus on what really matters that’s when things move forward.

The two goals I set for myself
When I set out on that flight I was craving focus and I had two big goals for Q1: launch Unstuck, my digital product, and start freelancing in brand strategy. That was it.

And so I focused: I got started, got overwhelmed, tried different approaches, course-corrected, and eventually found the direction that felt right and stuck with it. It worked. I now have women who joined Unstuck and are figuring out their next chapter, and I’ve started taking on freelance work I’m so excited about.

The overachiever in me will always say that I should have done more, faster and sooner but I’m better at ignoring that voice.

What I do know is that being somewhere new, with only what I needed, no more and no less, made a big difference. I barely had distractions. I was taking care of myself and for the first time in a while, fully focused on what actually mattered.

Same goals, new postcode
3.5 months later my suitcase came back at 21.7kg (which feels like a miracle) and I have a clear direction for the months ahead: same two goals, we’re just getting started.

But coming home is its own thing, though. It’s comforting and familiar but it’s also the place where focus can die fast. Sometimes being away makes things easier, the environment does it for you. The challenge now is keeping the same rhythm and focus while being back in a life full of options and things pulling my attention from different directions. I’m also lowkey excited for a wardrobe change, can you blame me?

I’d love to know what your big Q2 goals are, maybe we can support each other on the journey? Feel free to send me a message or write it in comments.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

But sometimes it doesn’t click into place, does it? No matter how many times or for how long you try, you just know it’s not right. I’ve learned that’s okay too.

there’s always a moment
Let’s rewind for a second because I’m sure you can pinpoint a specific moment when you knew a situation wasn’t right anymore. There is always that moment: maybe a random conversation that confirms what you were feeling, a Sunday evening that feels heavier than all the ones before, your inner voice screaming at you “this isn’t it anymore”…

I’ve had a few of those moments when I knew “it’s time to change” and, being honest, once you know, you can’t unknow it. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling that grows and grows until it’s impossible to ignore and at some point you have to decide what to do with it.

the gap between knowing and actually leaving
Easier said than done, I know. That’s because there’s a big gap between knowing something isn’t working and actually doing something about it. And that gap is weird and uncomfortable in a very specific way because you’re not fully in and not fully out.

You still show up and try your best, but something has already changed in you and you feel it every day. I guess we stay in that gap for all kinds of reasons, and sometimes longer than we should.

Either because we’ve invested so much and leaving feels like admitting defeat. Because what if we’re wrong? Starting over sounds exhausting and scary and uncertain so how is that better?

So instead we adjust and overstay our welcome.

We shrink a little, accept a little less, tell ourselves it’s fine, that it’s not that bad and that maybe it’ll get better. And sometimes it does but other times you’re just delaying the obvious.

on quitting being a skill
Steven Bartlett said something I think about often: “knowing when to quit, change direction, leave a toxic situation, demand more from life - is a very important skill that people who win at life all seem to have.”

We’ve been told our whole lives that quitting is weakness, that pushing through is always the answer, that if you just stay long enough it’ll work itself out. But sometimes pushing through is just a more exhausting way of ignoring what you already know.

I think being honest with yourself to know the difference between something worth fighting for and something worth walking away from is where the real strength is.

so this is the love letter part
To the things that didn’t work out although we wanted them to. To knowing that those weren’t failures of effort, they were our gut telling us that something’s off.

Learning to trust that, even when it’s uncomfortable and uncertain, is probably the most important thing you can do.

And in the end you don’t need to know exactly what comes next, you just need to trust what you already know and decide to act on it.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Yeah. That feeling exactly.

I used to think that was just normal. That feeling busy and slightly overwhelmed was just what ambition felt like and that the mental load of keeping everything together (or trying to) was how it’s supposed to be. So needless to say, I didn’t sleep well on Sundays for what felt like the longest time.

Eventually things got better – I left a toxic job environment and started a new role which did wonders. But besides that, there’s something else I’ve learned that transformed my Sunday evenings and helped me feel more in control of my week. It only takes 10-15 minutes and four questions.

the reset
Sunday evening or Monday morning, sit down with your calendar open for 15 minutes max. – don’t overthink it – the goal is to keep it simple, efficient and reduce overwhelm. Then have a quick look and audit what the week is looking like.

Basically, you need to get honest with yourself about what the priorities are, what needs to be rescheduled or canceled and what needs protecting.

the four questions
Here’s the four questions that completely changed the way of how my whole week feels:

1. Is my schedule realistic this week? Look at everything on your plate and be genuinely honest. If it’s already too full on paper it will be too full in real life, and the week will make the decisions for you in the messiest way possible. Cancel what needs to be cancelled. Move what needs to move.

2. What are my two or three non-negotiables this week? Not everything is urgent. Not everything needs to happen this week. Get clear on your priorities and what actually matters most right now and protect those first. Everything else gets slotted around them or rescheduled for the week after. When you do this, you’ll realize quickly that most things can wait but your top 2-3 priorities can’t.

3. When am I working out this week? This is not a “what if” question, it’s a “when”. Look at your week and decide which classes you’re joining or when you’re hitting the gym. Put it in the calendar like you would a meeting. Because if it’s not there, you already know what happens - you’ll negotiate yourself out of it every single time and then feel bad about it on Friday. Decide now and take it off the table.

4. When am I doing something I actually enjoy this week? This question is here on purpose because life is more than just work. A dinner with someone you love, a slow morning, a walk with no agenda, a workout class you’ve been meaning to try. Something that’s just for you or any social activities. Make time for it and protect those blocks as you’d protect any other commitment.

I can promise you that if you do the Monday Reset, you’ll walk into the new week calmer and more confident instead of “arggg another week”.

I do this every Sunday evening but Monday morning works too - just pick one and stick to it. If you try it this week let me know how it goes, I’d love to hear it.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

And we’re all in on it - I love it, don’t get me wrong - because it feels like progress. It feels like if we just get the system right, everything else will follow.

But it doesn’t seem that way, does it? And I think I know why.

The thing I got really good at
For most of my twenties, I optimised my life around my career. And I was good at it. I showed up and I delivered. I made big decisions: where to live, what to prioritise, what to say yes and no to based on what made sense for the next step professionally.

I’m not sure it was a conscious choice, I think it just became the default mode - career first, life around it.

And from the outside it looked great. Dream job, good salary, very interesting work, a life that looked purposeful and driven. I had optimised my life yes, and I realized I had optimised around the wrong thing – external success.

I guess I never really stopped to ask myself: what kind of life do I actually want? Like, to really sit with this question and think deeply about it. Not about what’s the next logical career move. Not what looks good on paper. What do I actually want my life to feel like, day to day?

The problem underneath the productivity obsession
So at this point I don’t think most of us feel unproductive because we need to optimize more. We don’t need a better morning routine or a smarter to-do list. We need to know what kind of life we want – and that’s a clarity problem.

When you don’t know what you’re working towards - what you actually want, what genuinely fulfils you - no system can fix that. You can be incredibly consistent and disciplined and still feel like you’re running on a treadmill - moving fast and going nowhere.

And the tricky part is that optimising feels like doing something. It feels responsible and proactive, instead of sitting and thinking: What am I actually building this for?

The question we keep skipping
That question is uncomfortable because it doesn’t have a clean answer. It requires you to get honest about what you want separate from what you’ve been conditioned to want and from external validation. Separate from what your industry tells you success looks like, what your parents hoped for, what made sense when you were 22.

But when you know your why everything actually changes. It sounds cliché but when you know what you’re actually working towards - something that’s genuinely yours - showing up becomes so much easier because it just makes sense.

So before you buy another habit tracker, redesign your schedule or optimise your mornings - ask yourself what you’re optimising for. Start getting clear with yourself, then everything else will fall into place.

See you next Monday,
Mariana

Ps: If you’ve been feeling like you’re doing all the right things and still feel off - this one is for you. Send me a message, I’d love to hear where you’re at.