As a young adult, I thought everyone else knew something I didn’t.
They seemed confident.
Certain.
Sure of where they were headed.
I wasn’t.
I didn’t know what I wanted to be.
I didn’t know where I belonged.
And I definitely didn’t know how my life would turn out.
What I know now is this:
👉 Most of us walk into the future unsure. We just don’t say it out loud.
At age 20, uncertainty felt like failure.
If I didn’t have a plan, I assumed I was already behind.
Years later, in Basic Training, I learned just how wrong that thinking was.
One of the hardest parts of training for me wasn’t bayonet training — installing it, learning how to fight with it—that part I could handle.
It was land navigation.
To this day, it’s still my weakness. My husband lovingly teases me and calls me his “land navigation queen” because my sense of direction is… questionable at best.
Back then, we were learning how to read a military map.
Not only did I barely speak English, but I had never studied a map in detail in my life.
Contour lines.
Ridges.
Valleys.
Spurs.
It all sounded like another language.
A battle buddy tried to help me by using his hand to shape it into a ridge or a valley. I nodded the entire time.
I smiled.
I nodded more.
Inside, I was completely lost.
When it came time to be tested, I didn’t actually know the answers.
So I did what many people do when they’re afraid to admit they don’t understand — I repeated whatever it sounded like the Soldier next to me was saying.
I had no idea what I was answering.
And yet… I kept going.
Here’s what I wish I had known then:
You don’t need mastery right away.
A decade later, during officer training, land navigation came back — and guess what?
I still couldn’t naturally tell north, south, east, or west most of the time.
But this time, I had learned workarounds.
I trusted my compass.
I knew my pace count.
I relied on systems instead of instinct.
Those skills saved my bacon during Army Officer Training.
I wasn’t suddenly great at land navigation.
I was better at working around my weakness.
That lesson applies far beyond the military.
Failure isn’t a stop sign.
It’s feedback.
Confidence doesn’t come first.
Action does.
As a young adult, uncertainty felt like proof I wasn’t ready.
Now I know it was simply the beginning.
REFLECTION: What is one small step you could take this week, even if you don’t feel ready?
Not knowing yet does not mean you’re failing. It means you’re learning.
