When we think about our day-to-day life, we automatically default to the mindset of ‘I have to’. I have to do this and I have to do that. We rarely take into consideration our own power in creating that reality for ourselves.

Yes there are things we have no choice but to do, but we actually have a lot more power than we like to believe.

I think in some ways it’s easier to live on autopilot and tell ourselves that we don’t have a choice because it means we don’t have to take accountability. We can spend years living like this, and then wonder why we’re not any closer to the life we dream of.

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The first and most important step to your dream life

The most important mindset shift you need to make before you can create a different reality for yourself is this: choosing to stay stuck is a choice too.

Every time you choose autopilot over action, every time you choose the comfortable route that keeps you where you are instead of the harder one that gets you closer to your dreams, that is an active choice you’re making.

As hard as it may be to confront, stop telling yourself you’re a passive player in your own life and realise that the opposite is true: you are almost always the reason stopping yourself from living your dreams.

Taking accountability is the first step. Once you take accountability, it opens the doors to all sorts of possibilities. You can then begin to audit your life and you’ll start to question everything. The choices you make, the repeating thoughts you have, the people in your life, the energy you want to surround yourself with.

If you’ve read Letting Go by David Hawkins (one of my all-time favourite books by the way), you’ll know that emotions have different frequencies. If you’re constantly operating from a place of shame, guilt, fear or anger, your view of life is going to be that it’s hopeless, disappointing and miserable.

But when you decide to take back control of your life by making choices where you’re operating from a place of courage, willingness and reason, life will become something you’re actively creating and enjoying in the process.

How to shift your mindset from passive to active

1. Believe it before you see it.

   Just because it’s not how your life looks like right now doesn’t mean you’re not capable of having it.

2. Think like an entrepreneur.

   Instead of being an employee in your own life, be the CEO. Actively choose to prioritise your life in the same way a CEO prioritises what’s best for the business. Command your life with an entrepreneurial mindset.

3. Make decisions, and make them boldly.

   Spoiler alert: if you’re waiting to feel ready, that feeling never comes. You will never feel fully ready for anything, and making a choice requires courage. Trust your gut because only you know what’s right for you.

4. Ask, and see what you get.

   Ask people for help, opportunities, raises, you name it and see where it takes you. Create luck for yourself by putting yourself out there and being confident in your abilities when you approach people. There’s really nothing to lose.

5. Embrace the cringe.

   Every successful celebrity had their cringe moment, and look where they are now. Being an active player in your life means doing things that scare you for the greater outcome.

I had to have a serious conversation with myself this summer about what I wanted to do with my life. I’ve spent a decade wanting to be a creator CEO and after years of staying stuck, and trying and failing, something finally clicked this year and I made it happen.

You’d think after years of trying, and for it to then finally happen, the decision would be easy to go all in and give it my all. But the comfort and safety of my 9-5 job (being the youngest in the team, having the least amount of responsibility and reverting to my old identity every day) was really enticing. I could see the growth in what I was creating, but identifying with the new person that I needed to be to take this seriously was scary. I was self-sabotaging and putting off that leap because I didn’t want to have to take responsibility for what that meant. It meant stepping up, being a new version of myself I hadn’t yet met and taking a risk that could go wrong.

But not going for it meant I risked something even bigger: losing the dream I had worked so hard for. Whilst it’s easier spending my weekdays building someone else’s business, it meant I was losing time on what I wanted to build for myself, and if I didn’t risk it I knew I’d regret not trying.

Whatever your circumstance is, whether that’s a job you don’t align with anymore, a friendship group you’ve outgrown, or an environment that no longer serves you, it’s scary to turn around and change your mind to go after something else. But you’ll never regret having these honest conversations with yourself, because wouldn’t you rather know whether you’re moving in the right direction of your dreams, or drifting further away from them? Once you know, you can make informed decisions to move in the right direction and make your dream reality your real one.

How I’ve used an active mindset

• Started posting without permission → whenever I wanted to post in the past I’d come up with a really great excuse like I’m not good enough and I’m not ready, and I’d have the problem where my skills didn’t match my tastes so I didn’t like any of my creative work, and therefore never post it. But that’s part of the process. After many a hurdle, I finally got over myself and started pumping those posts out! And look where I’m sitting today. Imagine if I hadn’t done that.

• Started writing on Substack → even though I studied English at school and have always loved writing, it’s a skill I feel less confident in, in comparison to video creation and editing. For me with writing the problem is that the amount of time I can edit it is endless, and because it will rarely be perfect to me I’ll abandon it. But here I am showing up anyway and actually practicing the skill is what is getting me better and better at it. I can either spend time dreaming about the things I could do and ponder in ‘what-ifs’ or just get straight to it and learn on the job.

• Left my job even when I was comfortable in it → I’m currently serving my notice and leaving my job in a few weeks. It was a difficult decision because a part of me didn’t want to leave. I once heard the advice that you should leave your job whilst you’re still enjoying it and maybe getting too comfortable, instead of waiting to get to the point where you’re desperate to get out, and I agree with this. You should think of comfort as something you shouldn’t stay in too long, a bit like quicksand. Don’t let yourself stand in it for too long, otherwise you’ll get stuck. I’ve pushed myself to take a leap and get comfortable with being uncomfortable again.

Creating your dream reality is easy once you take back the control over your own life. If you feel you’re running on autopilot right now, what are some small (or big!) changes you can make to actively create the life you’ve always wanted? You have more power than you think, and remember, choosing to stay stuck is a choice too.

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As a recovering people pleaser, I always thought being called “nice” was a compliment.

I thought it meant I was agreeable, that I could neatly slot myself into other people’s lives.

I saw it as the same as “thoughtful” or “kind-hearted”.

As I’ve grown older I’ve come to realise they aren’t the same, and that “nice” is not the compliment I thought it was.

1. Swap approval for respect

Being agreeable doesn’t lead to respect.

In fact, the more you put other people’s needs above your own and let your boundaries slip to please them, the more people will push your boundaries to see how far you’ll allow them to go.

What I’m talking about here isn’t compromise, which is a healthy part of any relationship. I’m talking about ignoring your own needs in the pursuit of being liked by others.

The ironic part of all of this is that it doesn’t make people like you more.

If you’re constantly putting other people in front of you, that’s not being selfless, that’s self sacrifice. And self sacrifice only has one ending: resentment.

Instead of seeking people’s approval, choose to be honest about how you feel. This can be done with grace, whilst still being true to yourself.

Your real friends will appreciate and respect your needs, and listening to yourself is step one of self respect.

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2. Stop explaining so much

People pleasing comes from a fear of disappointing others (and what opinions they’ll have of you when you do).

But when people disappoint you, I bet you’re usually very understanding.

For example, every now and then I make plans with someone, and for whatever reason they have to cancel and rearrange.

Other than deciding what to do with my time instead, and perhaps changing a booking, it really doesn’t impact my life. Nor does it lead me to hold a grudge over that person.

I might feel disappointed for a few seconds, simply because I was excited to see them. But I would way rather they just say if they’re not feeling up for it, and meet another time when they are, because it’ll be more enjoyable for the both of us.

It should be the same when that person is you.

So next time when you need to reschedule, remember the understanding you show your friends. And if your friends are anything like you, they will understand.

You also don’t need to give a whole explanation as to why you can’t make it anymore. You just apologise sincerely about the change, and ask if you can meet them another day when you’re feeling better.

It really is that simple.

Of course we’re not making a habit of cancelling plans the day of, but learning to listen to what your body and prioritise rest is important when you really need to.

3. Confidence will get you further than usefulness

When someone says “you’re so nice”, they’re not describing your kindness, but your usefulness to them.

And that’s not a compliment.

The best example of this that I can think of is Carrie Bradshaw and Big.

Carrie is so desperate for Big’s approval that she is willing to betray her own wants and needs for him. She wants to be seen as his main priority, to be the only woman he dates and to be taken seriously by him.

But instead of sticking to that, she gives into him.

This inability to prioritise her needs doesn’t get her any closer to what she wants, it just makes her useful to him.

Useful doesn’t make someone like you more, it just means you’re benefitting them. With Carrie and Big, she helps to boost his ego and is there when he wants her to be, which is all he really wants.

Carrie’s people pleasing is made even more clear in contrast to the character of Samantha.

To me, Samantha is the archetype of a confident woman who accepts who she is and puts her needs before anyone else. For the most part she knows what makes her happy and what she stands for, and she acts accordingly.

People love her character not because she’s a people pleaser, but actually for the exact opposite reason: she doesn’t care what you think about her.

Whilst Carrie’s focus is on Big’s opinions of her, Samantha’s focus is on creating a life that she loves, and that’s what makes her so magnetic.

Pouring your energy into yourself is going to make you so much happier and get you so much closer to the life you dream of too.

4. Get comfortable with discomfort

When you feel your boundaries are being crossed, your brain makes a choice on how to react.

You either express how you truly feel, and by doing so, it shouldn’t happen again (and if it does, move on!)

Or you don’t express how you truly feel, you push it down, and you let that person cross them.

If you’re a people pleaser, you don’t have to think twice about which route you’re going to take. We already know, before we’ve even thought it through, that we would rather sacrifice our own needs for the sake of keeping other people happy.

This is because we hate the discomfort of disagreement.

Our nervous system might react with anxiety and panic when it comes to saying how we feel because we’ve understood it to be dangerous. This stems from childhood conditioning; somewhere along the line you’ve become scared of how people might react to your boundaries. Maybe you’re scared of abandonment, anger.

So whilst it might not feel like it, people pleasing is actually a protective response and a way of controlling the outcome.

Wanting to please others isn’t inherently bad, and to an extent it’s part of human nature. But it shouldn’t be in the expense of your own happiness.

Learning to recognise your needs and prioritise them is an act of self love, and the more you practice it, the easier it will become.

There really is no way around it apart from getting comfortable with the discomfort of disagreement. And proving to yourself that setting boundaries doesn’t lead to abandonment or arguments.

You need to challenge your own thoughts by changing the narrative in your mind. You need to start proving to yourself that you will survive and be ok if you start saying how you truly feel.

<3

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I have a friend I used to see and speak to every single day. And then one day I looked up and realised it had been three weeks since we’d spoken, and ten since we’d actually seen each other.

Nothing happened. There was no falling out, no moment I could point to. Life just started to fill in the gaps where we used to be.

This Lillian Hellman quote is something I haven’t stopped thinking about since I first saw it: “people change and forget to tell one another.” It names something I think most of us experience throughout our lives, without quite having the words for it. A way of explaining how we ebb and flow into each other’s lives, the feeling of looking around at people you used to feel so close to and sensing that something has shifted, without being able to say what.

As what happened with my friend, growing apart rarely happens in one moment. In your 20s there usually isn’t a big fight like what might have happened in your teens. Often times there is nothing you can really point to or say: that's when it started. It's slower than that, and quieter. It’s not necessarily a falling out, it’s more like something you don’t realise until you look up and see nothing is quite where you left it.

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The first chapter without a shared structure

I think this hits so much harder in our twenties because it’s the first time in our lives where there isn’t a structure holding us together.

At school you’re in the same building every day sitting in the same classes, going through the same exams. At university it’s the same campus, the same places to explore. Even if you’re becoming very different people with very different futures, there’s an invisible architecture keeping you in each other’s orbit. In all honesty you don’t have to try very hard. The structure does that for you, you’re put together anyway.

And then when you start to enter ‘adult life’ everyone scatters. Different cities, different jobs, different rhythms entirely. Someone’s doing long hours into the night, someone’s doing a Masters, someone’s got in a new relationship, someone’s moved abroad. What used to be a shared journey becomes a deeply personal and quite private one. Keeping a friendship alive stops being automatic and starts requiring something you actually have to choose: intention, effort, and the humbling admin of finding a date that works for both of you.

Growing up is learning how to hold on to people when there’s not much helping you to.

Growing into yourself

The other thing is that with all these changes, different day-to-days, different interactions and experiences, the people you once had so much in common with start to surprise you as the shared experience becomes fractured.

They learn more about themselves, they become more fully themselves and sometimes that self doesn’t fit with yours quite the way it used to. The friend you used to speak to for hours, now you’re searching for things to say. Priorities move and shift.

And whilst you might not even realise you’re changing too. You’re so busy clocking what feels different about them that you miss the ways you’ve quietly become someone else as well. And they’re probably thinking the same thing about you. They’ve chnaged without telling you, and you too have changed without telling them.

The feelings we don’t like to name

Discomfort and unfamiliarity isn’t one clean emotion you can identify and move past. It’s mourning what you had, maybe tangled up with a bit of jealousy when someone new enters your friend’s life. It’s the fear of being left behind or wondering whether you’re being quietly judged for the choices you’ve made, the career change, the relationship, the new city, while you’re busy judging yourself for the very same things.

What strikes me most is how universal this is and how rarely we actually say it. I’ve had some version of this conversation with nearly every close friend I have. The moment one person finally breaks the seal and admits they’ve been finding it difficult, and the acknowledgment from the other who has been going through the exact same thing.

But something I keep returning to and try to remind myself is that discomfort doesn’t mean something has gone wrong. It doesn’t mean the friendship is ending or that one of you has stopped caring. It might just mean the friendship is changing shape.

And you’re allowed to feel more than one thing about that at once. You can be genuinely happy for someone, proud of who they’re becoming and the life they’re building whilst still feeling a sadness that things aren’t quite what they used to be.

Somewhere along the way we absorbed this idea that if a relationship isn’t what it used to be it must be failing. But relationships were never meant to stay still. Maybe growing up is learning to love people in new configurations to the ones you started with. The friendships that survive and make it through your twenties, and any chapter of life, aren’t the ones that never change. It's the ones where both people learn how to adapt, to change together, to show patience and grace whilst the new form takes shape, and remember to simply tell each other along the way.

Everyone is quietly navigating the same thing. And maybe if we said this out loud, maybe if we remembered to tell one another, we’d realise we were never as far apart as we thought.

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No writing, no filming, no posting. I didn’t even jot down ideas in my notes app or in my journal (that I purposely left at home) which is usually the one thing I let myself get away with even when I’m supposedly resting. I read a book that had nothing to do with my work. I sat on the beach listening to the waves. It was proper rest. The kind I hadn’t given myself in a while.

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Last weekend I was feeling very burnt out. I knew it was burnout, but the guilt I felt when I tried to rest was completely overconsuming me. I’d rest for a couple of hours watching Netflix, but then feel so overwhelmed with guilt that I needed to create something that I’d then spend the rest of the day staring at a blank page not knowing what to write and feeling frustrated that another day had gone by wasted. Not resting or creating, just stuck somewhere in between.

The cult of constant output

It’s funny because we’re taught that the more we output, the more we’ll be rewarded. If we’re not doing, nothing will be done. What people don’t mention is that rest is actually an integral part of the creative process.

We live in the most content saturated time in history and yet so many of us feel creatively starved. The advice when you feel a creative block is almost always the same: show up anyway, discipline over inspiration, post even when you don’t feel like it because the algorithm won’t wait for you to be ready.

And yes, there’s truth in that. Showing up matters. Building the habit of creating even on the days it doesn’t flow is how you get better. I do believe in that genuinely. But somewhere along the way I think I confused discipline with depletion, as if the only proof I was working hard enough was that I was running on empty.

I noticed this creeping closer and closer to me this month. I had been filming and editing and posting back to back while juggling a full time job, and somewhere in the middle of it all I stopped being excited about my work. Something that when I started brought me so much joy was becoming a burden. The ideas felt flat and thin. I was showing up, technically, but I didn’t have the same belief or the same wind beneath my wings that I’d had before.

The scariest part wasn’t the burnout itself. It was the voice in my head that told me if I stopped, even for a week, I would lose whatever momentum I had. That someone else would fill the space I left or I would never quite recover. I know for so many of us that voice can get very loud, so instead of looking after yourself you plough on with not much in the tank, forcing yourself to put something out even though you know deep down it’s been done half-heartedly.

Rest isn’t the enemy of creativity

Rest is so often framed as the opposite of productivity, but I think that gets it completely wrong. Rest isn’t what you do instead of creating, it’s what makes creating possible in the first place.

If you don’t give yourself space to recuperate, you’ll eventually be running on empty. That’s when the ideas stop coming, when everything feels uninspiring and you find yourself scrolling through other people’s content wondering why you can’t seem to match it. We mistake this for running out of ideas when really we’re just running low on energy. It’s not a creativity problem. It’s a rest problem.

And yet the advice, when you feel blocked, is almost always to push harder. There’s a part of you that believes if you’re not producing, you’re falling behind. That if you take a day off, someone else is posting twice as much.

But all that leaves you with is a growing sense of dread every time you sit down to get creative. Rest isn’t a reward you get to enjoy once you’ve hit some productivity threshold. It’s part of the process. And the sooner we start treating rest as a part of the creative process, rather than a break from it, the easier it will be to do without guilt.

There are two ways to create

I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently and I think there’s two different modes of creating and how differently they feel, both to make and to receive.

The first is reactive.

Chasing trends, following what the algorithm rewards, letting other people’s content set the agenda for what feels relevant. When you create from this place you’re always going to feel one step behind because you’re not leading, you’re responding. You’re trying to find a way into a crowded room that doesn’t need another person saying the same thing.

The second is proactive.

This is about paying attention to your own observations, the things you’re genuinely thinking about, the ideas you naturally have something to say about. Time to rest actually refuels this. It gives you back the space to notice things, to think things through properly, rather than forcing something out just to keep the streak alive. Proactive creativity is about leading.

The most connected I’ve ever felt to my work has always come from the second place. Not from getting caught up in what’s going on out there, but from actually living my life and finding something in it worth sharing. You can’t do that when you’re too absorbed in everyone else’s stuff to hear your own thoughts.

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Let go of the guilt

I’m not saying the guilt won’t come. Of course it will, especially if you’re someone like me who finds it hard to allow yourself time to rest.

But in this last week something I’ve realised is that the algorithm doesn’t care about consistency as much as it cares about resonance.

The posts that have done the most for my community haven’t been the ones I forced out on a Tuesday because I hadn’t posted in a few days. They’ve been the ones I made because I genuinely had something I wanted to say.

When creativity becomes a task it stops being creative. And an audience who genuinely cares about your work will still be there when you come back. They notice the quality of what you make far more than the gap between when you made it.

I think creating from a state of lack is one of the worst feelings ever, because you don’t enjoy the process and then you can’t really enjoy the outcome either. You owe it to yourself to listen to what your body needs and put out things you can feel proud of.

Rest creates room for change

Rest also gives you the chance to revisit your goals and ask whether they still actually feel aligned with where you’re going.

I started this year with the goal of hitting 100k, and that goal gave me the structure I needed at the time. But I’m almost there now and what I’ve realised is that the number was never really the point. The point was always what comes after it, and what comes after it requires a completely different approach. Posting every single day while balancing a full time job was a short term solution. It worked for what it needed to do, but growth requires stamina, quality and cultivation. The answer isn’t always output.

The goal has shifted from a number to something harder to measure but so much more worth having. Longevity, real community, work I can stand behind. People who are genuinely here and not just passing through. Taking this week off reminded me of that and brought me back to why I started.

When you step back, you find your way back

You can’t see something clearly when you’re inside it and sometimes the most useful thing you can do for your work is to step far enough away that you can actually look at it properly.

This week I did just that and ideas came back in because I finally had room for them. Creativity became a form of play again and I found my compass. That’s not a coincidence, that’s just what happens when you stop filling every gap and give yourself permission to be still for a moment.

Rest is part of the creative process, not a break from it. And if you’ve been putting off the rest because the guilt feels too loud, I hope this helps quiet it a little. Your creativity isn’t going anywhere. It’s just waiting for you to give it some space.

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It’s not necessarily a conscious thing at first because we can feel entertained by the content we consume. And it feels useful, like research, to spend time online seeing what’s trending in our niche, what the competition is. But whilst I come across content that does inspire me, there’s so much that doesn’t, and really when I think about it afterwards, 95% of what I watched I didn’t need to, and the other 5% that might feel like research usually doesn’t even inspire me, but just makes me feel like I’m not good enough or behind.

We live in the most content saturated time in history, and yet so many of us feel creatively starved.

Julia Cameron, the author of The Artist’s Way, talks about something she calls ‘filling the well’. This is the idea that creative work draws from a reservoir of images, feelings, and experiences, and that reservoir needs to be replenished. She writes:

But here’s the thing, filling the well isn’t about consuming more content. What fills the well is living. Actual experience. That could be a museum visit, a long walk, reading for pleasure, even resting. Whatever it is, you shouldn’t have the intention of turning it into content. It shouldn’t be inspiration with a purpose. It should just be time to clear your head, and if inspiration comes, that’s great. If it doesn’t and you just feel bored, that’s also fine.

Actually, boredom is useful to the creative process. Studies have found that boredom activates the brain’s default mode network, the part responsible for daydreaming, imagination, and memory retrieval, creating the mental conditions needed for creative insight. When we fill every quiet moment with our phones, we’re essentially blocking the neurological process through which original ideas form.

So don’t beat yourself up about it because ideas don’t always come when you’re seeking them out, but when you’re not looking for them. Sometimes your mind just needs time to decompress. Either way, it will always be more beneficial to your creativity than doomscrolling. Because absorbing everyone else’s version of a good idea just leaves you with nothing original to say.

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It’s during these moments, in the time when you create space for ideas to form, that you’ll start thinking about how you feel, what you’ve noticed that day. You’ll remember that conversation you had or overheard. And that’s where the magic lies, and how you can start to create what you’ve been craving.

Julia Cameron wrote that ‘Art is born in attention’. There is a connection between creating and presence, so when our attention is captured by our phones, art is harder to make.

This isn’t to say that social media is all bad. We can find a sense of community online and creating content is a rightful creative medium. But I think there’s a version of this particular work that can come from a depleted, reactive place. Where you’re making things because you feel you have to, because you’re chasing a sound or a format or a moment that worked for someone else. And then there’s the other version that comes from a genuinely full place. From something you noticed, something that moved you, something you genuinely wanted to say.

I truly believe these two versions create different energy exchanges that are felt when your content is watched by others.

I feel the most connected to my content when I allow myself the creative freedom to talk about different topics, to try different formats or different ways of speaking. Not always falling into the trap of what I think will perform best, which I understand is a game we all have to play sometimes. But if I don’t allow myself some freedom, I don’t enjoy the process and that’s what makes it impossible to show up consistently. You end up creating to satisfy the algorithm rather than your own passion and interest, and you can feel that as you create it.

I think this is something a lot of creators experience: the version of themselves they want to show up as gets gradually reduced by the pressure to post and stay relevant.

Create what you’ve been craving is something I use as a compass for creative work now…

What is the thing you wish existed? What’s the gap you keep noticing? What’s the thing you wish you heard? That’s usually where the most alive work is.

I started making videos because I was bored of what I was seeing. I wanted something that spoke to me: something slower, more thoughtful and less optimised. And when I made that thing, it turned out other people had been quietly craving it too. Not because I analysed the algorithm intensely, but because I had listened to something in myself. The answer was in that human connection.

So if you’re feeling creatively flat right now, pay more attention to filling your own well. The inspiration you’re looking for might already be within you, and it might just require some attention.

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Even friendships as a teen felt easier than what I’m currently experiencing in my 20s. At least looking back you can excuse anything you weren’t proud of on hormones, finding yourself and simply being a teenager. Yes, there were fallouts and dramas, but there always is during those years.

So why does friendship feel so much harder now?

In your 20s you’re an adult. Maturity should have (hopefully) caught up. Our understanding of not only ourselves, but of the complexities of being human and what it means to forgive, support and show up, should be better than it has ever been before.

And yet friendship has never felt more elusive.

I know I’m very lucky to say that making friends at school wasn’t difficult for me. And I don’t mean this to sound conceited, I certainly wasn’t in the ‘popular group’ (lol I don’t think I need to make that clear), but what I mean is that making friends just felt like something that came naturally. It wasn’t something I really thought about, because there wasn’t a reason to. We would bond over the odd teachers, the funny moments at lunch break and the homework you were set. Whilst we all had our own personalities, interests and friendship groups, the shared experience of school held us together.

Uni was the first time friendship felt like a challenge. New place, new people, a new identity to find. I went from feeling like a big fish in a small pond, to the opposite. Like most people, it took me a while to settle and find my footing, but I still found some incredible people, a few of whom I’m still friends with today.

Leaving university and stepping into the ‘real world’ was the big shock. Now it seems that not only making new friends, but maintaining your current ones, requires a lot of effort.

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I want to preface that I’m the sort of person who would rather have a few close friends than lots of peripheral ones, and that may add to my feelings on this. I assume if you’re extroverted or thrive in social environments, simply being around people, whether at a party or at the pub, is enough to fill your cup. For me, that leaves me feeling depleted. What fills me is a thoughtful, more-than-surface-level conversation. I would rather have a 1-to-1 chat with someone, and feel like I got to know them in some way, over small-talk at a gathering any day. Which is something that’s now difficult to achieve as everyone has different jobs, is on different schedules and your bimonthly meeting is a quick catch up after work.

Or maybe assuming that is wrong (and now having said that I think it is) because a valuable friendship, that is a friend who is truly there for you, not just someone you share an odd drink with, comes from having enough thoughtful conversations to accumulate into something that brings value and depth to both of your lives, to the point that it’s worth upholding. It doesn’t matter whether you’re an introvert or an extrovert, that definition remains the same.

So I don’t think this is a feeling that’s only applicable to introverts. And perhaps it feels even more prominent to the people who are surrounded by friends and still don’t feel like they can connect with them on the same level they once did.

It’s that feeling we all feel when we hit our 20s, of not having all that shared life experience to lean on, not being around each other all the time and having to constantly play catch up. That feeling that you’re growing in different directions to one another, growing apart.

I want to quickly say that I am very happy and grateful for the friends I have, but I think both can exist at the same time. You can have amazing friends and still feel this way, as is the nature of growing up. The conversations I have with them - confusion around friendships, struggling to connect with people who you were once close with in the past, and simply becoming different people - only emphasises what I’m trying to say here.

As we all navigate our careers, our romantic relationships, moving out, moving to new countries, whilst also trying to function as a healthy, happy human being and still find the time to do the things we enjoy (breatheee), the question becomes:

How much should you expect from your friends in your 20s?

I do think the language being used online in the self-development space is sometimes too black-and-white, too clean cut, to reflect the muddy waters of reality. I’m not talking about the friendship dealbreakers, the non-negotiables to no longer be friends with someone. I’m talking about the conversations that are making it seem normal to end a friendship the moment someone starts ‘draining your energy’ and anyone who isn’t benefitting us is worth cutting out of our lives.

Maybe that’s why we feel more disconnected in our 20s. Maybe we’re worried to show up as our true selves and share how we’re genuinely feeling because it’s so much easier to be cut off in a flick of a switch. And we don’t want to impose. We say sorry after a rant. We only get to see our friends every so often so we don’t want the monthly meeting to leave a sour taste in their mouths, because people’s time is precious and they might just leave thinking: What was the point of this?

I’ll be honest I’ve been on both sides of this. In the past I’ve ended friendships in a way that I’m not proud of and that I didn’t handle well. And I’ve been on the receiving end of it. And it leaves you spiralling and wondering what you did wrong that was so bad it wasn’t even worth having a conversation about to save your friendship.

But what I know now is that (a) no friendship is perfect and (b) no friend can be everything to you. And neither of these are a good enough reason for a friendship to end. Especially as you enter your 20s, when meeting up becomes less frequent, and similarities start to fade away, friendship becomes something different. But it also becomes something more important. Life gets more challenging. From loss, grief, health troubles, career confusion, new relationships, breakups, and maybe even becoming a spouse and a parent.

Being someone’s friend, and letting them be yours, in these messy, complex moments of life where you can rant, cry, laugh and support one another - that’s not a burden or being ‘a lot’, that’s what friendships are for.

So yes, you’re not imagining it, friendships in your 20s are more difficult because we become more individual, more insular and more busy. We don’t have every day shared experience to connect us, so connection requires more intention. But it’s still one of the most important things we can tend to.

Here’s where to start -

How to reconnect with the friends you have:

1. Imperfect frequency and visibility means because it doesn’t need to be big gestures. Something I think a lot of us can do more is simply messaging our friends when we think about them, sending them funny videos that you know they’ll love, a quick phone call whilst you’re on your lunch break. Things that don’t take a lot of time, but are thoughtful and mean a lot to someone’s day.

2. Be present. We all live in our own bubbles, and sometimes we miss the signals that someone is putting out when they want to talk about something that’s on their mind. Being present is just about listening and focusing on the conversation and the person in front of you, without distractions. This is something that requires practice, so make an effort to be open minded, so they feel it’s a safe space for them to open up.

3. Create (new) shared experiences. Doing something together, even if it’s simple, ignites new conversations and bonds. Going to the cinema, an art exhibition, a class, a trip or holiday if you feel you can. These shared memories continue to build the foundation you already have.

4. Create a ritual. In a similar vein, maybe there’s a coffee shop you both like going together, or a workout class you both want to try. Doing something weekly or monthly together that is your thing gives your friendship a special identity.

5. Let yourself be honest. Sometimes if it’s been a while it’s easy to revert to the ‘everything’s fine’ mentality, and that’s ok if it is. But being vulnerable about your worries, confusions and anxieties is human, and creates space for your friends to also share their feelings, which brings depth and intimacy.

How to make new friends in your 20s:

1. Put yourself somewhere new. Join clubs, communities, classes, groups, lectures and events outside of work. Say yes to the things you’d normally talk yourself out of. If it feels safer, start by going with someone you already know and make a conscious effort to talk to people until you feel brave enough to go by yourself.

2. I think most people are very open to chatting with someone new, it’s just we get too scared to be the first to make a move. But on the days you’re feeling brave, why not try to speak to someone and see how it goes. If it doesn’t go anywhere it’s also okay, but there’s no harm in being courageous and putting yourself out there.

3. Something that is less talked about is being open and receptive to receive. Try entering spaces without listening to music or staring at your phone, but actually looking at the world around you. This makes you a more approachable person for others to speak to you too.

4. Internet friends - Of course proceed with caution on this one, but there are lots of communities online, or even events hosted by people you follow, where you’ll find lots of like-minded people. Offline spaces are growing in popularity, so with a quick bit of research you should be able to find some spaces with people that share common interests.

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Hello,

Well here we are, welcome to the Thought Garden!

It feels exciting but also kind of nerve wracking to be writing my first Substack (eek!).The last time I wrote like this was when I made a blog whilst at university, but this time (I hope) there’s a lot more of you reading.

As some of you already know, I love visiting Substack. It feels like a special corner of the internet, still quite untouched by the masses. It feels intimate. Every time I open Substack up I am refreshed by other people’s thoughts, lived experiences and lessons that can’t be found in mainstream news and media. Or at least not in this formula. You don’t have to be a “writer” or have any specific qualifications to get started on here. It’s simply a space for those who want to write, no barrier of entry, open to all.

I assume most of you have discovered me here through my socials, where I’ve been sharing my reflections in short-form video on what I guess is philosophy and culture but I kind of just call it coming across things and sharing my thoughts on them. This space will be an extension of that: a place where we can build a community, you can share your thoughts and we’ll have a little garden of our own.

And for selfish reasons, it also gives me a bit of space to breathe from back-to-back filming and editing whilst juggling a full-time job. This is not meant to sound like a flex, I’m just being transparent because that’s all I want to be with you, and I know some of you are also embarking on your own journeys on socials and this is the reality! It will allow me to let you into my mind a bit more, but in a way where I can sit in bed.

Seeing as this is the beginning of something new and different, I thought the topic of today’s discussion was very apt, and inevitable, considering my perfectionist tendencies. So let’s dive in.

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“Good enough is good enough”

The idea of good enough was conceptualised by Donald Winnicott, a paediatrician and psychoanalyst, in the 1950s and 60s. During his work at Paddington Green Children’s Hospital, he spent a long time observing the relationship between mothers and their children.

This is when his concept of the good enough mother was born. Winnicott understood there was a pressure on mothers to be perfect, but what he noticed was that children don’t need their mothers to be perfect, they just need them to love them completely, support them how they can and be there for them. In fact he argued that children can benefit from a good enough mother more than a perfect one, who doesn’t exist anyway and is just a cruel way to get mothers to feel guilty about how much they can do.

The good enough mindset was then adopted by others in different industries, as a broader way of understanding that chasing perfection is not always the most beneficial or even needed thing to do.

My first encounter with the good enough mindset was actually at school. I must have been around 17 and my whole year group was sat in a lecture room, where one of the senior teachers was giving us a talk that lay somewhere in between the rules of examinations and a pep talk. At one moment she said something that stuck with me, and it seems with a few others who were in that room too as we still bring it up to this day: good enough is good enough.

It’s not the sort of thing you’d expect to hear from a teacher, let alone the Head of Curriculum. It seemed strange, especially at that time when exams were only a few weeks away and we had all worked so hard to get where we were. But it was exactly the thing that I, and many others that day, needed to hear.

Good enough isn’t about lowering your standards or settling for less. It’s about releasing yourself from an impossible standard that usually isn’t even necessary in the first place. I think a lot of us in that lecture room were aiming for percentages in the high 90s, but the reality was you didn’t need to get above 95 to get an A*. And for many of us an A, sitting around 75%, would have been enough for the universities we had secured.

The same thing happens in other areas of life. We set ourselves standards of perfection, putting pressure on ourselves that no one is asking of us and we get frustrated when we can’t meet them or things don’t go exactly how we planned.

The Perfectionism Trap

The one I grapple with a lot is with creativity. Especially when I’m starting something new or trying out a different concept I can get paralysed by my own perfectionism. I have this idea of what I want to make or who I want to become, and sometimes I even find the courage to make a start, but the moment what comes out doesn’t match the idea I had in my mind, I stop.

We get scared because it isn’t right yet. We tell ourselves we’ll do it once we’re better, once we’re ready. But that fear is what ends up keeping us stuck in the exact same place, because when we try to revisit it again we’re still in the same position we were before, having not moved forward. Then comes the part of self depreciation where time passes, no progress is made, and now you’re feeling all this guilt and shame that you haven’t done anything. All because you created this unnecessary pressure on yourself.

Good enough is how I get out of this perpetual cycle of perfection. It’s a grounding and disarming reminder that you don’t need to be perfect to do well. It takes me out of my head and lets me know:

Ok I can relax, this isn’t as life altering as it is in my head.

The gap between the thing you imagined and the thing you actually made isn’t failure but the condition under which you develop. Abandoning that idea altogether and instead allowing yourself to explore and give something a go will get you much further than mulling over how you’re going to get it perfect but not actually getting anywhere. It shifts your focus away from the output, and towards something more important: building the habit of showing up.

Good enough is a way of accepting your work as it is. Sometimes you’ll be satisfied with it, and sometimes you’ll need to show up and push through a place of discomfort to find what’s on the other side. But that will always lead you to discover something new or learn something that you didn’t know before. And often, as my teacher reminded me, good enough is good enough.

It’s also worth saying that if you hold yourself to high standards and agonise over getting things just right, your good enough is probably most people’s really good. The bar you’re holding yourself to is already unusually high and often a voice in your head that only you hear. By listening to that voice you’re doing yourself a disservice to the things you could create right now, which might already be enough, and will only lead to more expansion and growth.

It won’t always be easy. But the skills, the confidence and the growth that you’re looking for never come before you begin. It only ever comes through it. So here I am at the beginning of this journey and accepting my work as good enough. And if there’s something you’ve been putting off, maybe this is your sign to do the same.

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