Early on, we’re introduced to what’s “acceptable.”
We’re told to do things a certain way, act a certain way, follow a certain path… because it’s the right thing to do. But nobody really explains why. We just absorb it. We repeat it. We build our life inside it.
For me, the first time I realized something didn’t fit was after I started working a 9–5.
It wasn’t even one specific moment. It was more like a slow build—this quiet pressure that kept getting louder. The more I watched how work culture operates, the more questions I had:
Why can’t we question anything?
Why are we expected to do things in a way that clearly isn’t working?
Why do we have to follow social norms that feel outdated or disconnected from real life?
Who set those rules in the first place?
And are they even relevant to the world we’re living in now?
That’s the feeling I don’t think people talk about enough—the moment you realize you’ve been living inside a mold you didn’t choose.
The quiet discomfort
The discomfort isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just this steady awareness that something is off.
Like you’re living life knowing what you’re living doesn’t feel right… but you don’t feel like you’re allowed to say that out loud. You don’t feel like you can correct it. You don’t feel like you can challenge it. So you keep going anyway.
And over time, that creates this internal conflict—like you’re split in two.
One part of you tries to play the game and “be normal.”
The other part of you can’t unsee what you’ve started to see.
In a lot of work culture, being stressed is treated like proof you’re doing it right. Like if you’re not frustrated or burnt out, you must not be working hard enough.
But is that actually true?
Or is it just a rule we all inherited and kept repeating?
What we’re told to be grateful for
Most of us have heard some version of this:
You should be grateful you have a roof over your head.
Grateful you have food to eat.
Grateful you have a job.
You shouldn’t complain because other people have it worse.
And listen—those things matter. Of course they do.
But the way “gratitude” is used sometimes… it isn’t gratitude. It’s a shutdown.
It turns into: Don’t ask for more. Don’t question. Don’t want anything different.
For me, that created guilt around wanting more—not even “more” as in luxury, but more as in:
- more peace
- more time
- more control
- more alignment
- more breathing room
It made me second guess myself. Like I was asking for too much. Like I was being selfish.
And after enough years of that mindset, it starts to shape how you see yourself.
You start believing you’re inferior.
You start believing you shouldn’t want more.
You start believing you should be happy with whatever you’re given, even if it’s costing you your mental health.
Where the guilt comes from
I think a lot of this guilt comes from years of conditioning—childhood to adulthood.
Not always in an obvious way. Sometimes it’s just what’s modeled. What’s praised. What’s rewarded.
There’s this message floating around in so many places:
There’s one right way to live.
One right way to work.
One right way to be responsible.
And if you don’t follow it, you’re the odd one out.
And nobody wants to be singled out. Even people who are miserable in their situation still fear being the person who “does life differently.”
That’s why the guilt hits so hard internally.
It eats at you. Scratches at you. Keeps you awake. Makes you question everything you’ve learned.
But on the outside, you’re expected to stay composed. Normal. Fine.
Gratitude vs obligation
This is the part that changed things for me.
Gratitude and obligation are not the same thing.
Gratitude is being appreciative of what you have—what you’ve worked for, what you’ve survived, what people have done for you, what life has given you.
Obligation is what you feel like you have to do, even when it’s slowly breaking you.
And those two get mixed up all the time.
You can be grateful for your job and still recognize it’s draining you.
You can be grateful for stability and still want a different kind of stability.
You can be grateful for your life and still want your life to fit you better.
Wanting something different isn’t a rejection of what you have.
It’s not “either/or.” It’s layered.
You can appreciate what got you here… and still decide you don’t want to stay here forever.
Permission to want something else
If someone feels bad for wanting a different life, I want them to hear this:
You’re not wrong.
You’re not selfish.
You’re not “ungrateful.”
You might just be waking up.
You might finally be seeing that there are other options—options that fit the way you actually want to live. Options that don’t require you to burn out to prove you’re worthy.
And I know that can be scary because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
But it’s also hopeful.
Because if the old path isn’t working, that doesn’t mean you failed.
It might mean the path simply doesn’t fit you.
You’re allowed to want a life that supports you.
You’re allowed to question the rules you inherited.
You’re allowed to outgrow beliefs that frame you into something you’re not.
A soft landing
I hope if you’re reading this and you feel that “split in two” feeling—like you’re grateful but also tired, functional but also restless—you leave with one simple truth:
You’re allowed to question.
Social norms aren’t everything.
And noticing what doesn’t fit isn’t a betrayal of your life. It might be the start of finally building one that does.
So here’s the question I’ll leave you with:
If you stopped judging yourself for wanting something different… what would you allow yourself to consider?
