2- Breaking Free from “Should”: Letting Go of Others’ Expectations
I’m learning to let go of what I "should" do and start making choices that align with my true self.
The first step in my journey was what I now call the cleaning phase: a process of awareness and deep internal decluttering.
Because here’s the truth—you can’t gain clarity if your life is filled with noise.
For most of my life, the word “should” guided my decisions like an invisible hand shaping every step I took.
It’s wild how one word can carry so much weight, especially when it comes from anyone but yourself.
The thing is, we don’t even notice it most of the time. These “shoulds” come dressed as advice, tradition, love, and even concern. They’re echoed by our families, schools, friends, media, and culture. They wrap themselves around us slowly, almost gently, until we begin to believe they’re part of us. That they are us.
But at some point—and for me, that point came in my mid-30s—I stopped and asked:
Who decided what I should do?
And more importantly: Do I actually want that?
So I began to remove what no longer felt like me. Slowly, quietly, and honestly, with more fear than certainty.
And it wasn’t just about cleaning out a drawer or quitting a job. It was much deeper than that.
I’m talking about everything: people who drained me. Hobbies I didn’t enjoy anymore but held onto for the sake of identity. Jobs that no longer aligned with my values.
Habits that numbed me instead of helped me. Beliefs that were inherited, not chosen.
And yes, letting go was scary.
There was grief, even in things I didn’t want anymore.
Because they had once been part of who I thought I was. Or who I thought I had to be.
But here’s what surprised me the most: The more I let go, the lighter my heart felt.
With every layer I removed, I started to feel space open up. More breath. More stillness. More honesty.
It felt like clearing out a cluttered room and suddenly noticing the sunlight streaming in through a window I hadn’t seen in years.
I was finally making space for myself.
Not the version of me shaped by expectations, but the version that was quietly waiting underneath it all. The real me.
And that’s where the journey truly began—not with a grand plan or a dramatic change, but with a gentle, necessary unbecoming. A decision to stop carrying what wasn’t mine anymore.
Because before you can truly grow into who you're meant to be—into the life, the peace, the alignment you deeply crave—you first have to let go of who you no longer are. The version of you that was built to survive, to please, to fit in. The version that once served a purpose, but now simply takes up space where something more authentic is trying to bloom.
The Heavy Voice of Expectation
Growing up, we’re often shown a path: education, career, relationship, home, and children. And if we’re lucky enough to check all those boxes, we’re supposed to be happy. That’s the promise, right?
Except sometimes, we follow the map and still feel lost. Because the map doesn’t account for who you actually are. It doesn’t consider how your desires evolve, how your values shift, or how your soul might want something different. It just assumes that one size fits all. And even when we follow the plan, there's always a voice whispering, "You could be doing more."
We’re human—we look around, we compare ourselves to others. Social media, social circles, family gatherings—everywhere, there's a silent scoreboard. Someone is always one step ahead, or at least that’s how it feels. So we make decisions not based on who we are or what we truly want, but based on what we should be doing at any stage of life. And suddenly, we’re measuring our worth against timelines that weren’t even ours since the beginning.
It's a never-ending cycle of comparison and frustration—always striving for the next milestone, always falling just a little short in our own eyes.
And we don’t just do it in one area of life—it creeps into every pillar: relationships, career, finances, family.
We constantly look at the time left, the years that have passed, and feel the pressure mount.
It becomes a race we didn’t choose to run, against a clock we didn’t set.
But lately, I’ve learned something that changed everything: There is no timeline for a fulfilling life.
You can get married at 27 and build a family by 30. Or you can still be chasing dreams at 39, redefining what happiness means to you, and choosing a life that might look different, but feels more you.
And that’s okay.
At some point, I realized I was living by a script I didn’t write—one written by expectations, fear, and a deep discomfort with “falling behind.”
But every time I made a choice based on what I should do, instead of what I wanted, I felt myself drifting further away from who I really was.
And I couldn’t ignore that anymore.
It was time to stop.
To stop measuring my life by other people’s timelines.
To stop apologizing for taking the long way around.
To stop shrinking myself to fit someone else’s version of success.
I started asking a new question: What if I’m not late? What if I’m just on my own time?
And that simple shift changed everything.
What Happens When You Let Go?
Letting go of the “shoulds” isn’t immediate. It’s not a dramatic scene where you slam a door and suddenly feel free. It’s slow. It’s uncomfortable. It’s asking, before every decision, “Is this truly what I want—or what I think I’m expected to want?”
It’s painful sometimes. Because letting go of the shoulds means risking disappointment. People might not understand. They might question your choices or even step away from your life. And that can hurt.
But here’s the beauty: in that space, something new grows.
Something softer, quieter, more you.
You begin to notice what actually feels good, not just what looks good from the outside.
You become more attuned to your body, your energy, and your intuition.
You begin to trust your voice, that quiet one inside you that’s always been there, waiting to be heard under all the noise.
And somewhere along the way, losing stops feeling like failure.
It becomes something else entirely—growth.
A sign that you’re evolving. That you're no longer holding onto things that don't nourish you, just to keep others comfortable.
You realize that loss isn’t always a bad thing.
Sometimes it’s just making space—for peace, for joy, for clarity, for the kind of life that fits you better now.
And that’s what growing up really is: not just adding more to your life, but learning what to let go of, what to say no to, and what to walk away from, even when it’s hard.
Because letting go doesn’t mean giving up.
It means choosing yourself—bravely, gently, over and over again.
My Ongoing Work
I won’t pretend I’ve figured it all out. Growth isn’t a destination—it’s a continuous unfolding. I still catch myself whispering “should” in my mind. I still feel the familiar tug of old patterns, the ones shaped by years of habit, conditioning, and fear.
But the difference now is: I notice.
And that, in itself, is powerful.
Because awareness is the first step toward transformation. Without judgment, just curiosity. Just kindness.
When I make a decision now—big or small—I try to pause and check in with myself:
Am I doing this out of fear or pressure?
Is this aligned with who I am now, not who I was five years ago, or who others expect me to be?
Would I still choose this if no one else ever saw or validated it?
These questions have become anchors for me, pulling me back to my truth when I feel the drift of self-doubt or people-pleasing.
Letting go of “should” isn’t just an act of courage—it’s an act of self-respect. Of radical self-love.
And that’s something I had to learn—not from books or advice, but by walking through discomfort, by falling out of alignment and finding my way back. Slowly. Gently.
I know I’m not alone in this. Many of us were never taught to listen to our inner voice, to trust it, to prioritize it. But I truly believe that’s where everything begins. That’s the foundation of success—not the version that’s measured by titles or timelines, but the kind rooted in peace, purpose, and wholeness.
Because at the end of the day, the most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one you have with yourself.
And your voice? It matters.
Your life? It’s yours.
And you have every right to live it on your terms.
What About You?
Take a moment and ask yourself:
What’s one thing I’m doing because I think I should?
What might change if I let that go, even just a little?
This journey isn’t about rebellion. It’s about truth. Your truth.
So here’s to releasing the weight of should—one small step at a time.
Because this is your life. And you get to decide how it’s lived.
"There was grief, even in things I didn’t want anymore." Brilliant way to phrase it, I feel like this aspect is too often overlooked.
You know what? You SHOULD keep writing. Not because you *should*, because it's liberating, and genuinely inspiring.