The Pressure to “Have a Plan” Is a Lie
There’s this quiet expectation that follows you everywhere, even when no one says it out loud. You’re supposed to have a plan. A clear one. Something structured, convincing, and easy to explain when someone asks, “So, what are you doing next?” And if you don’t? There’s this discomfort that sets in like you’ve missed a step everyone else somehow got the memo for.
I’ve felt that pressure more times than I can count. In casual conversations, in applications, even in casual introductions. It shows up in simple questions that suddenly feel loaded—Where do you see yourself in five years? What’s your next move? Questions that assume clarity, even when you’re still figuring things out.
But the more I sit with it, the more I realize something: the pressure to have everything mapped out is, in many ways, a lie, it may be right for others but mostly as I have heard from people, it does not work out.
The Illusion of Certainty
We’ve been taught to believe that clarity comes early. That successful people always knew what they wanted. That if you’re serious, you should have a plan, and not just any plan, but one that makes sense, sounds impressive, and looks stable.
But real life rarely works like that.
What we often see is the final version of someone’s journey, not the messy middle. We see the job title, the achievement, the outcome. What we don’t see are the moments of doubt, the changes in direction, the uncertainty that came before any of it made sense.
Certainty, in many cases, is performed. It’s something people learn to present, not something they always genuinely feel.
And once you realize that, it changes how you see your own uncertainty.
When Plans Stop Fitting
There were times when I thought I had it all figured out, like, this is a perfect plan. A plan that made sense in my head and on paper. Something I could explain confidently. It felt good, at least for a while.
And then, change happened, my interests shifted. New experiences opened my eyes to things I hadn’t considered before. Some opportunities came unexpectedly, and others (many) I was counting on didn’t work out. And suddenly, the plan I once felt so sure about no longer fit who I was becoming. It felt like I did not check a box, but when I look back, there was no box I did not check, in fact, if I went back, I would do the same things, not all anyways.
An epiphany! the issue isn’t that we can’t stick to a plan. It is that we expect a fixed plan to carry a person who is constantly evolving.
There Is Strength in Not Knowing
We don’t talk enough about this, but there is a kind of strength in being able to say, “I don’t fully know yet.” Not in a careless way, but in an honest one. It takes awareness to admit that you’re still figuring things out. It takes courage to resist rushing into something just because it looks right or sounds acceptable.
Not having a clear plan doesn’t mean you’re lost or you do not care about the future. Sometimes, it means you’re paying attention and being intentional enough not to jump into things that do not right for you. It means you’re giving yourself space to understand what actually fits you, instead of forcing yourself into something just to feel secure.
What If the Plan Isn’t the Point?
The problem isn’t that we don’t have a plan. It’s that we’ve been taught to believe the plan is everything. But, I am not sure that is the case. So many questions, but what if growth matters more than certainty? What if exploration matters more than having answers too early?
Some of the most meaningful paths don’t begin with a detailed plan. They begin with curiosity. With small steps. With decisions that don’t always make perfect sense at the time but lead you somewhere important. Instead of asking yourself, “Do I have it all figured out?” maybe a better question is, “Am I moving forward?”
Because, I have been told a number of times that movement, even slow, uncertain movement, is still progress.
Learning to Trust the Process
I won’t pretend it’s easy. Uncertainty can feel very uncomfortable. There’s no clear structure, no guarantee, no timeline you can confidently follow. But there’s also something freeing about it.
You’re not locked into a version of your life that no longer fits your current situation. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to discover new things about yourself. You’re allowed to grow into your choices instead of being trapped by them.
For me, I’m still figuring things out. There are few things I’m sure about, and many things I’m not. But I’m learning to trust the process a little more. To focus less on having a perfect plan and more on taking the next honest step. And I think it is enough. Because the truth is, most of us are not following a perfect plan, life happens and that perfect plan comes falling apart.
We’re just moving, adjusting, and learning, one step at a time.
Dorcas Kongwie
