If you are human, it’s natural to dream big to plan out each day, each year, and then regret it all when New Year’s resolutions arrive. We’ve all been there. But this constant cycle of planning, failing, regretting, and planning again can slowly drift you into a zone that affects your psychological well-being. It’s not healthy.
A quiet, steady life can also be a meaningful one.
One of the first “gems” I ever received came from my khala, my maternal aunt. She would say:
“Put in all your effort, and leave the result to God.”
For better or worse, this simple idea closes the door to hindsight. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t learn from our mistakes, but it does mean we don’t need to torture ourselves with the past.
In this blog, I’m sharing my own informal formula: not setting rigid goals, not chasing perfection, just choosing a journey of living. A life where you take the next step, then the next, without crushing yourself under the weight of expectations.
The Repeater
One of the turning points in my life happened when I failed third grade. I still remember the day the results came out. Everyone in my family scolded me—and with four older sisters, the lectures came in shifts. Each one repeated the same warning: “If you don’t pass now, you’ll fail in life.”
At the time, those words felt heavy. I was a child, and fear was my first reaction. I didn’t want to disappoint my family again. But looking back now, that moment taught me something much more valuable. Because after the scolding, there was always a sentence of encouragement—a reminder that I could do better, that I could rise, that this wasn’t the end.
When I entered my new third-grade class after repeating the year, the teacher often asked, “Who is the repeater?” I would quietly raise my hand. It wasn’t meant to shame me—it was simply a fact she needed to know. But inside, I carried the weight of that word.
However, what mattered more was something I didn’t recognize at the time: every small improvement I made was noticed. Whenever I did a bit better, my teacher would give me that look—a mixture of surprise and genuine encouragement—as if saying, “See? Look how well you’re doing. Look how much you’ve improved.”
Those moments stayed with me far longer than the word repeater ever did. In the years that followed, the fear of failing again slowly faded, replaced by determination. I persevered. I worked harder. And that early failure, instead of becoming the end of my story, became the push that helped me grow. It was proof that growth doesn’t come in leaps—it comes in small steps, each one noticed by someone who believes in you.
The Lifeline
When I look back at my school years, I realize something strange: mathematics made sense to me.
Reading-heavy subjects were a different story. Later in university, when I finally had access to the internet, people told me that struggling with reading could be an actual condition. But back then, it never occurred to me to get tested. I just thought I was “slow” or “not good at studies.” But mathematics kept me alive academically. It was my lifeline.
I still remember a teacher telling me once, “If you understand mathematics, that means your brain is working. You just need to put more effort elsewhere.”
It was motivating, sometimes the simplest words help the most, keep you going.
Of course, this early confidence (what we call zo’m in Urdu — an inflated sense of one’s own ability) eventually fell apart. I soon realized that advanced mathematics was not my forte either. But by then, I had discovered something else — something that would become the center of my professional life:
Programming.
It became my bread and butter. My new language. My safe space. And somehow, I carved out a career from it.
When I completed 12th grade with a C grade — natually not the grade you dream of, not the grade that opens the doors to top universities. At that time, becoming a sailor was actually a realistic option with my results. And maybe that path would have been enough. But life had other plans for me.
The Quiet Relief of University
When I reached university, life felt lighter. After years of pressure-filled schoolwork, university assignments were often take-home, which meant I could work at my own pace without the fear of being called out for not understanding something instantly. That alone lifted a huge burden. At the beginning, I did well. My grades were good enough to make me feel proud. But as time passed, those grades dropped. It wasn’t intentional; life simply happened. I wasn’t always consistent, and I didn’t always understand everything.
In the end, I earned my degree—lower second class. Not the kind of grade that opens every door. Not the kind of grade you brag about. But it was enough.
Enough to graduate. Enough to move forward. Enough to get my first job. Sometimes, “enough” is all you need to take the next step in life.
Venturing Into the Unknown
University also opened the door to the entire world through the internet. For the first time, I could search for topics that were considered taboo in my society—questions about the existence of God, philosophy, doubt, and meaning. I wasn’t looking for rebellion; I was looking for understanding.
One day I picked up a philosophy book. I remember telling my teacher, “I can’t understand this.”
He smiled and said something simple that stayed with me for years: “This is not first-read material.”
That one sentence explained more than the entire book. It taught me something about the levels of reading—how some books are not meant to be understood on the first attempt, or even the tenth. It was the first time I realized that difficulty doesn’t mean failure. It just means the topic is bigger than you right now—and that’s okay.
Navigating the Work Maze
After university, I joined my first company. The path I took was far from straight.
I started as a developer, but soon I took finance classes to understand the business side. I thought about taking the CFA exam—I studied hard, gave it my best shot, and failed 8 out of 10 subjects.
It was a blow, but I had a safety net: my bills were paid, and I had a stable income. That comfort allowed me to keep going, to experiment, and to pivot without fear of immediate disaster. Eventually, development became difficult for me, so I moved to QA and stayed there until a better opportunity came along.
Looking back, a few lessons stand out:
- I didn’t leave when things weren’t going my way; I stayed, learned, and adapted.
- My future direction pivoted multiple times, but each pivot taught me something new.
- Having a safety net—even a small one—can give you the freedom to take risks without feeling paralyzed.
Life rarely follows a straight line. Sometimes the detours, the sideways moves, and even the failures are exactly what prepare you for what comes next.
Getting Fired
Not everyone can afford what I’m about to describe, but it’s an honest part of my journey. Earlier I hinted at this: I was fired—laid off because the company decided to downsize. I had already planned a religious journey, and when the news came, it broke me. It felt like yet another reminder that I had “failed again.”
But this time, something was different:
I had a support system, and I wasn’t carrying the weight of expectations anymore. You might not have this exact privilege, and I won’t pretend it’s easy. But for me, it became a blessing. I left home and went with the Tablighi Jamaat for four months. That break, that change of environment, helped reset my mind.
If you ever find yourself at a low point, I recommend some form of travel—any form your circumstances allow. Even a short trip, stepping away from your routine, can help you breathe again. I talked about this in an earlier blog too: sometimes distance gives you clarity that effort and thinking cannot.
The Safety Net and the Slow Path
Given current market conditions, a safety net means different things to different people. But living a life without comparison does not mean avoiding responsibility. You are human, and someday you will need to stand on your own feet.
Start with whatever opportunity you get, and work from there.
No matter how small or insignificant your beginning seems, it is not the end—it is just the start. If you are blessed with family support, don’t waste your time pushing yourself into studies you are not good at. Gain practical experience. Learn by doing. In places like Pakistan, where most of us grow up in joint or extended family systems, it’s normal to continue living with parents as you transition into working life. You slowly take responsibility for the house, the bills, and the family. That system can be a cushion—not a crutch, but a foundation.
People will tell you to start a business, take risks, and aim big. That advice works for some. But this blog is titled If You Are Like Me for a reason. If your mind automatically shuts down every business idea you come up with, that’s okay. It might be better for you to work on someone else’s big idea, contribute to their vision, and keep pivoting from opportunity to opportunity.
There is no shame in that path. It is honest, stable, and real.
Remember: You don’t need a rigid goal. You just need to steer your boat to the next dock, collect the paycheck, and sail again.
A Consistent Cadence
I didn’t know what depression was until long after I had finished university. I just knew life felt heavy sometimes, and lighter at other times. I didn’t link it to anything psychological—it was just “life.”
But I learned that life is about keeping a consistent cadence. If you can’t stick to one topic, that’s okay—as long as you keep taking steps forward. If you have a roof over your head and regular meals, things will be fine.
There is no spotlight on you all the time. Even if you feel like you’re under intense scrutiny, remember that it won’t last forever. Keep going, and look for alternatives when you need them. In my case, I had a support system. In your situation, you may have to fight your battles alone or with fewer people beside you—and that’s okay too. Not having support doesn’t mean you can’t make it. It just means your journey will require more strength—but you are capable of it.
The goal isn’t to win quickly or meet some arbitrary timeline. The goal is simply to make it to the end—steadily, persistently, and on your own terms. Time isn’t the measure of success; endurance is.
Friends
When it comes to friends, my journey has been a bit unusual. In school, I had a set of friends in my early grades, but when I failed a grade, everything reset. I had to start again with a new class and a new group of people. But this part of life never felt too difficult for me. I talked to everyone—from the smart students to the ones more like me. Being a year older than the class, and in some cases two or even three years older, wasn’t noticeable at first. But by around grade 5, when everyone started hitting growth spurts, I became the tallest in the class. Later, others caught up, and some even grew taller, but by then friendships had already formed in their own ways.
Fast forward to today: we have a school WhatsApp group. Every few months, the group meets up. I’ve attended some gatherings and ignored others. One thing I consistently notice about my school friends is how much they curse. Maybe it’s a kind of liberation—something they couldn’t freely do in school but now express as adults.
Compared to them, my university friends seem more well-behaved, more measured. But I’m sure if I listened to how they talk in their own private groups, I’d probably hear the same verbal chaos. I’m not mentioning this to sound sanctimonious or morally superior. It’s simply an observation about how people choose their own paths—some becoming reserved, some becoming loud and fun, and many shifting depending on the company they’re in.
Being around people different from you gives perspective. It shows you how many shades life can have, and how each group you move through reveals something about who you were, who you are, and who you’re becoming.
The Bitcoin Lesson
My first exposure to Bitcoin was in its earliest days. Someone I knew told me that you could “earn coins” just by running a graphics card setup. And if you’re reading this story sequentially, you can probably guess what my mind did with that idea: I tossed it straight into the dustbin. Even today, my brain still struggles to accept that a hash—a string of characters—can be worth anything.
But I digress.
The second time Bitcoin came onto my radar was when it hit $3,000. My natural reaction? “If I had some right now, I’d sell it immediately.”
Once again, I was wrong.
Then when it climbed to $19,000, I confidently declared,
“This is just a bubble. It’s going to burst.”
And then the same thing happened yet again—I was wrong, and my mind still refuses to accept that it’s worth anything. Crazy, isn’t it?
A Little Win on the Stock Market
Not everything has been a loss for me—I actually made a small win in the stock market a few years back. I invested around 5 lakh PKR and after about two years, I got back roughly 7 lakh PKR.
And here’s the funny part: I did zero research.
I simply called my brother, asked for guidance, and he said, “Go to the listings page, see what’s selling cheap, and wait.” Within two days, I had bought a few stocks. Again, this is not investment advice—but the lesson I took from it is simple:
- Keep some money aside for emergencies—medical or otherwise.
- Then, every month, set aside a small amount for long-term investment.
- Put it in stocks and let it rest.
- Think of it as retirement money, not quick-profit money.
In the end, it all comes down to this: celebrate your small wins. Keep a steady cadence in life, even if the steps are tiny. Take breaks when you need to. Refresh yourself. Move at your own pace, not the pace the world demands from you.
Whatever problems you’re facing today will soften, shift, or fade with time. You’ll find your rhythm, and with it, you’ll find peace.
I’ll leave you with a quote my father loved
“If you’re trying to be perfect, you’ll die before you even get started.”