Now, listening in late 2025, I no longer felt heroic. Instead, what I felt most strongly was tenderness. Tenderness for that young man who believed he could outwork any obstacle, who thought the American dream was just a matter of refusing to quit. He had no idea what was coming-the failures, the losses, the ways life would refuse his tidy narrative.
"When you don't say what needs to be said in the moment to spare somebody else's feelings, first of all, like, you're rejecting the truest part of yourself," Paltrow said. "And then it's going to come out another way. And that's like, you'll end up being dishonest. You'll end up not saying what needs to be said. You'll end up stringing out some lame relationship for eight extra months and treating them not so nicely because you have stuck yourself in something, you know, you just make a mess," she said.
Life as a journey; life as a quest; life as a purpose; life as... life? We have different ways of trying to make sense of what passing through time means-this doing-what-we-do within this box of years. For many of us, the answer is simple-it's about doing what we do, building a life, making the best decisions we can, which we may later regret or be proud of.
Sometimes we feel like we're not progressing in our personal development if we don't have an Etsy shop that makes six figures a year, haven't done an Ironman, or still feel upset about a friendship that broke down five years ago. But there are all sorts of ways we mature and develop that we barely notice. When you give yourself credit for quiet ways you've matured psychologically, it can help you feel more settled within yourself and build on these wins.
Listen, if we all waited until we were fully healed, evolved, and spiritually polished, the planet would be a monastery. You don't have to be perfect to be in a relationship. You don't have to purge every childhood wound or meditate yourself into sainthood. You don't have to finish the book, the course, the cleanse, or the shadow-work workbook with all the gold stars.
There is a holiday moment many of us know well: the quiet walk outside, the long exhale, the brief escape from a room full of people we love but sometimes struggle to navigate. This season carries both beauty and weight. It can draw out our best qualities- generosity, gratitude, warmth-and also uncover the places where we are still growing. I used to think this tension meant something was wrong-and honestly, part of me still does.
When you think back on your life so far, you'll likely see a few pivotal moments that played a major role in your storyline. At the time, the events might not have seemed like a big deal - a haircut, a part-time job, a quick weekend trip - but now that you've lived through them, you know exactly how they shaped you into who you are today.
When I think back on my life, shyness feels like an inner prison I carried with me for years. Not a prison with bars and guards, but a quieter kind-made of hesitation, fear, and silence. It kept me standing still while life moved forward around me. One memory stays with me: my eighth-grade dance. The gym was alive with music, kids moving awkwardly but freely on the floor, laughing, bumping into one another, having fun.
When I found myself in the wreckage of my third marriage, I finally woke up to the wrenching truth that marriage isn't for me. I looked back on my relationships and came to the sudden realization that, as much as I tried, maybe I'm not the marrying kind, have no idea what I'm doing, or am clueless about what makes a good life partner or how to be one. Or, likely, all of the above.
The first time I got on a plane was memorable - not because I was heading to a fancy vacation spot, but because I was going to boot camp for the Marine Corps. From the moment I arrived at the recruiter's office, the energy was intense. Family members were calling to wish me good luck, and my nerves mixed with excitement. I'll never forget when the pilot announced, "Let's give a round of applause for the future Marines on board."
Then, last year, a friend invited me to her birthday kickabout a casual game of football, I gathered. (I believe some call it soccer.) Had we been less close, I might have made my excuses. Instead I turned up to the park, determined to keep as far away from the ball as possible. To my great surprise, I enjoyed myself. Instead of running down the clock on the sidelines, I got swept up in the game, rooting for my team to score.
Think about the last time you ran into someone you hadn't seen in years, maybe a school friend. You remembered them a certain way, maybe loud, always joking, the kind of person who filled a room. But when you met again, they seemed quieter and more thoughtful than you remembered. For a second, you wondered if time had traded them out for someone else.
This experience taught me that letting go isn't about weakness, failure, or loss. It's about creating space-for ease, clarity, and the next chapter of our lives. In fact, it was my own transition to my next chapter that enabled me to finish the book. I learned to release outdated beliefs, soften my self-judgment, and eliminate roles that no longer fit.
