Things I Don’t Know How to Do (Yet)

Some people seem to have it all figured out. Politics, pensions, plants; you name it. Meanwhile, I’m just here wondering if everyone else is secretly Googling things under the table or if I’m the only one who’s bluffing their way through adulthood.

Sometimes I wish I could watch people’s inner thoughts like a documentary. Not because I want to invade their privacy, but because I want confirmation that I’m not the only one who panics when someone asks, “What’s your take on the new pension scheme?”

Take politics, for example. I vote. I read headlines. I try. But half the time, I still feel like someone’s going to ask me for my opinion and I’ll blurt out something like, “I just think… taxes should be nice?”

I tend to stay quiet, assuming everyone else knows more than I do. Spoiler: they don’t. But the fear of sounding ridiculous often wins.

Same goes for pensions. A neighbor once asked me if I’d thought about my retirement plan. He said it in that tone. You know the one, like he was personally offended I hadn’t scheduled a Zoom with a financial advisor before breakfast. I’m 38. I have a full-time job. I’m not entirely irresponsible. But no, I haven’t crunched the numbers for 2057.

And don’t even get me started on gardening. I would love to have a lush, green, envy-inducing garden. But plants and I… we have a complicated relationship. I either overwater them or forget they exist entirely. I now rotate fake plants and just pretend they’re thriving. I’ve had one plant for eight years. It’s got one green leaf left. I call it a survivor.

Home improvement? Let’s not. Drilling a hole into a wall while someone watches me is a full-blown psychological thriller. My confidence evaporates and I suddenly forget which end of the drill is up.

Networking in big groups? Honestly, it feels like an Olympic sport. People schmooze effortlessly while I’m in the corner trying to remember my own job title. I know networking can open doors, but why do all those doors lead to rooms where I feel like an imposter?

Now, onto love. I’m still learning how to not disappear in it. How to set boundaries. How to say, “Hey, I like you,” without assuming it’ll trigger a full evacuation plan.

I don’t ghost people. I ghost myself. (An absolutely terrible strategy. 2/10. Would not recommend.) But it’s what happens when I start shrinking to fit someone else’s version of me. The people-pleaser in me starts editing my personality to keep things peaceful. But I’m learning that love shouldn’t feel like a performance.

Sometimes, I try to sidestep it completely. No love, no risk. Eye-mask on. If I don’t look, it can’t hurt me.

Unless he’s a charming, probably South American type who knows how to order coffee in three languages, then maybe I’ll peek. Briefly. But even then, I need to stop dismissing the red flags just because the lighting is flattering.

Honestly? I often know. I always know. I just need to stop muting my instincts when they’re trying to save me.

I’ll write more about that in another post. Because it deserves its own corner of the diary.

For now, I’m working on accepting that it’s okay to not know everything. That it’s okay to ask. To learn. To grow on my own timeline.

Because maybe the only thing we really need to master is this: How to not apologize for being a work in progress.

– Sophie Quinn