Making Peace with Not Knowing, Because I Am a Work in Progress
There’s something comforting about being unfinished.
Not in a romantic way. Not in the way people post about healing or soft mornings with tea and gratitude journals. I mean the quiet, honest kind of unfinished. Where you’re sitting at your desk again, trying to make sense of yourself, while the rest of the world seems so far ahead.
I’ve worked on cruise ships for years – floating cities that never sleep, where your time is not really your own, and the ocean is both a backdrop and a boundary. I lived out of a suitcase, with a tiny bunk bed and fluorescent lighting. That job taught me many things – how to find belonging in strange places, how to make something feel like home even when you’re far from land, how to live with less and dream with more. But mostly, it taught me how to keep going.
Even now, with both feet on land, I still feel like I’m drifting.
I write about how to live more sustainably, how to work online, how to travel lighter. I write about noticing beauty and staying through hard days. But the truth is, I haven’t figured it all out. I’m still too shy to reach out to people. I’m still trying to build something from nothing. And often, I wonder if it’s working at all.
I keep telling myself: you’re not meant to have it all figured out.
Some days, it feels like nothing is happening. I stay home, not because I want to hide, but because I feel I need to earn my place outside. I tell myself I need to be making money first. That I need results to justify rest. But life doesn’t wait until you feel ready. The light still shifts. The days still pass.
So I try to notice the small things – the quiet repetitions that mean I’m still here. Boiling water for tea. Writing a paragraph even if it doesn’t go anywhere. Letting myself reread something I wrote and not cringe. Letting it stay online.
Sometimes I write about figuring out your life. But I’m really writing from the middle of mine. Still fumbling. Still unsure. Still hoping that being honest can be enough.
I’ve always been slow with things. It takes me a long time to know what I feel, let alone say it out loud. I have to write my way there. And even then, I second guess everything. But maybe being a work in progress just means you haven’t given up.
I still don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve shared lessons learnt from my years on earth, but many of those lessons are things I still forget. I try to find my focus, but it slips away all the time.
Maybe being unfinished is not a flaw, but a quiet kind of courage.
It means I’m still open. Still learning. Still growing into the person I want to be, even if it’s slow, even if it’s messy. Even if the progress doesn’t look like much on the outside.
So if you’re in the middle of it too – whatever “it” is – I hope this reminds you that you’re not alone. You don’t need to be certain to keep going. You don’t need to be ready to start.
You’re allowed to take up space as you are. You’re allowed to grow quietly.
You're allowed to be a work in progress.
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