People always seem to want to know about your future while overlooking your present. One question I’m frequently asked is, “Well, where do you think you’ll be in five years?” Even if I thought about it really hard, I couldn’t tell you what I want to do one year from now. In fact, I don’t even know what I’m having for dinner, let alone what I’ll be doing in the year 2029. For me, this is by far the strangest inquiry you could ever make of the younger generations.
From the perspective of my nineteen-year-old self, my current reality is the last thing I would have imagined, but here I sit, living it. Even now, at the ripe old age of thirty two, I have come to accept the fact that I am in the heat of transformation. Anything is possible at this age. ANYTHING. So why would I even begin to try to fathom what my existence will look like in five years? Why would I limit all possibilities and all unknowns by trapping the future into some kind of framework, tainting my potential?
My reality cannot conform to people’s fantasies, or their need to know what the future holds.
You will notice that the older generation—the generation that seeks stability and security and don’t like us not having firm, rigid plans—are more prone to asking this question. On multiple occasions, it has come across as incredibly condescending to me, in a very “Oh, what will you do when your fake little Internet hobby falls through?” type of way. When people are bold enough to ask me, I can’t help but roll my eyes and flip the question toward them.
“Where do YOU think you’ll be in five years? Please take your time; I can wait.”
Ultimately, they laugh because, like me and everyone else, they have no clue. And that’s okay. They want to respond with the same answer I do: “I’m not sure.”
Age might relieve many things, but it doesn’t ease our discomfort with uncertainty.The mind seeks clarity, but our souls prefer to wander into ambiguity. It’s OKAY to not know your future. It’s acceptable to have no idea what you want to do. Don’t let anyone trick you into thinking otherwise.
An offer, opportunity, breakthrough, or brain wave could happen at any moment and change the trajectory of your life. Surely the key to life is being open to such a possibility. Five-year plan? That’s hilarious. The more I type those words, the more I laugh.
With that in mind, here’s where I think I will be in (I hope it constitutes an answer of sorts):
To my dearest future self,
Hello, wherever and whenever you are. I’m not quite sure when you’ll be reading this, but I’ll assume it won’t be for at least five years. Yeah, that should allow enough time to go by, and for life to look very differently from how it does now. I don’t have a crystal ball in my immediate possession, but I suspect this future will involve a new place, a beautiful car and fresh ambitions; a few pets, perhaps, as well as a closet full of amazing clothes and shoes—you know,the works! At the very least, time will bring change, to the extent that I probably won’t even recognize myself. My stomach is in my throat just thinking about it (in a good way, I swear). Now, without sounding too melodramatic or self-indulgent here (famous last words), I’m writing this in the year 2024—and you’re currently killing it. You’re living in Nairobi and being your own boss in your own coaching practice. You are also writing your second book, and your insanely beautiful journals are sold out. Of course, all this will seem like ancient history to you, Future Me. Treasured memories from days gone by. Yet you have to recall how unbearably overwhelming it all felt,right?? Even while typing this blog post, I’m low-key annoyed at myself for admitting that. It’s okay though. It’s a part of the journey! Are you looking back and thinking, “Awwwh, she has no clue what’s about to happen”? Damn, I wish I could know where you are. I wish I could know what you’re doing and where life has led you. This all feels like I’m putting a message from my current self in a bottle and throwing it out into the ocean, unsure when, where, or even IF my future self will receive it. Anyway, I digress. Let’s continue to look ahead. In a previous letter to my Past Me, I was able to connect the dots and offer reassurances. With this letter, I can’t even see the dots, let alone the joined-up lines. But here’s what I do know, and I’m pretty sure it will resonate: forget all the things that don’t matter (possessions, wealth, fame)and focus instead on what you and your clients are going through. Because what they are going through, and how you help them emerge from that experience, tells the story of exactly who you are. That’s what makes you you. That’s what 2024 was for you: a building year. You are also surviving a couple of traumatic disappointments, which meant dealing with the loss of an ideal you held about that season in your life as well as another subtle identity crisis. This were by no means, easy things to cope with, but I’m sure it makes a lot more sense to you now. It only takes time, they say . . . whoever THEY are. After all, you now have the luxury of hindsight that I can’t possibly have. You are probably looking back on this time with a wry, knowing smile. Laughing at these posts(in a modest way, as you do when you are uncomfortable). We survive this declining economy, right? Please tell me Kenya is a better place to be then ... please.) Yeah, you will remember 2024 for being an intense year, full of uncertainty in work, at home and in your mind. Filled with new emotions and experiences colliding together. I’m sure the lessons, in love and in life, have continued to come thick and fast, and hopefully you continued to learn from each one. Only you will know how many more ups and downs I still have to face. I don’t even dare to guess as to how many more times I will breakdown and pick myself up again. But as strange as it might sound, I actually hope that you have experienced it all over again. In suffering, you have found a greater understanding and appreciation for yourself and life’s sweetness. You are still trying to believe it every day. One morning you convince yourself it will all be worth it, the next you are down and believe it all to be worthless. It’s all oddly necessary—and nothing is permanent. Do you have new friends? Are you in contact with your old ones? I hope you feel the love you give to them in return. I hope you understand that others can add to your well-being but they can’t create it. You, and the happiness you cultivate within, are all you have, from beginning to end. Everything else is a chapter of an unknown length. But I want those chapters to be rich, full of color, adventure, and life. Each is important, and all are rooted in you. When I catch up to you, and stand where you stand now, I want to feel the joy and look back at me—at us—with pride and satisfaction,devoid of regrets.
I will say, your career is forever confusing to you and the world, but you better not have eased up on your ambition; that inner fire should be cherished and utilized because that’s one of your favorite aspects of your personality. I hope it’s burning as fiercely as ever. I never want you to lose that hunger for more. More information, more feelings, more experiences, more peaks, more valleys, more connection, more disconnection, more, more, more. I find so much purpose by seeking a deeper understanding of all the ins and outs of life, and I never want to lose that. That’s what I have learned to love about myself: that inexplicable desire that’s rooted in who knows-what. I hope you’re stronger, bolder, and more self-confident. Right now, as I write this, you’re so insecure in ways that you can hardly verbalize—and you rarely do. You are getting so much better at getting out of your bubble and your own head, and you are taking vast strides toward self-improvement. You will remember these days—the days you conveyed a quiet but calculated confidence to the world.
I hope you give me credit, too, for slowly learning that I am who I am, and not becoming an alternative, false version of myself. Ultimately, I hope you’re happy. Yet another important cliché, but that’s my biggest wish for you out there in the future. I can’t wait to see and feel how you feel about me right now. If only we could talk or text. (Someone make an app for that, STAT.)
As I write these words, I know and trust that everything will be fine; that we’ll be fine. Everything is always fine in the end, if you will it to be. I’m not naive enough to ignore the inevitability that things will go south again at some point again. That’s life. It’s shitty, but it’s consistently inconsistent. I refuse to live in fear of slipping on banana peels and falling into pits—sometimes, it’s for our own good. Each experience will shape me into a good human being. And I have a feeling you’re a good human being. If you continue to be a good person, then that’s wonderful—that’s really all I can hope for. So keep striving for your goals,marching forward, and pursuing your passions. That’s where your happiness lies. I’m right behind you, headed your way. I look forward to hearing all about the journey, sharing laughter, and looking back on the memories with fondness. One day. Until then.
Let none of us be fooled into thinking we need to know what the future holds. Everyone’s been brainwashed into thinking they know or should know. We will be all right if we simply keep moving forward. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. So next time someone asks about your five-year plan, maybe shrug your shoulders and admit, “I don’t know—I’m happy to see where life takes me.”
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