They say time reveals everything: people’s intentions, your own strength, and all the things you missed while life was happening too fast to notice.

I used to think I had to get everything right on the first try. That I needed to have it all figured out—my career, my purpose, the path I was supposed to take. So I worked hard, maybe harder than I should’ve. I pushed myself to be “on” all the time. I showed up with a smile, said yes to everything, and chased goals that looked good on paper—but never actually felt like mine.

There were moments I knew deep down that something didn’t feel right. But I ignored them. I told myself I was being dramatic. That discomfort meant growth. That exhaustion was a badge of honor. So I kept going. I stayed in jobs I outgrew. I stayed silent when I wanted to speak up. I lowered my voice in rooms where I should’ve stood tall. And I waited—waited for clarity, for permission, for the "right time."

But here’s the truth no one really tells you:
The “right time” never shows up. It doesn’t knock. It doesn’t arrive with a neat little label that says now’s your moment. Most of the time, life gives you whispers—small nudges, subtle red flags, gut feelings you brush off. And if you ignore them long enough, they eventually become lessons. Sometimes painful ones.

Looking back now, I see it all clearly. I see the chapters I stayed in too long. The version of myself I kept pretending to be because I was scared of what would happen if I changed. I see how I traded my own voice for validation. I see how I mistook busyness for progress, and approval for self-worth.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t erase the mistakes. I wouldn’t even want a smoother path. But I would do one thing differently:
I’d trust myself sooner.

I’d listen to my intuition—the one that quietly knew when something wasn’t right. I’d stop asking for directions from people who had never been where I wanted to go. I’d stop trying to earn love or respect by becoming smaller, quieter, easier to digest.

I’d take more risks. I’d fail faster. I’d stop apologizing for growing.
Because growth is messy. It doesn’t always make sense in the moment. But it’s always worth it.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Life isn’t about getting everything right. It’s about becoming someone who’s brave enough to keep learning, unlearning, and trying again. Regret doesn’t have to be shameful—it can be fuel. Proof that you’ve evolved. That you’re paying attention now.

So I’ll ask you—genuinely:
Looking back, what would you change?
Not to dwell in the past, but to honor how far you’ve come.
And maybe, to finally give yourself permission to do it differently next time.