Slow Down to Speed Up: How I Escaped the “Achieve Everything Now” Trap

I have a confession to make: I walk incredibly fast. In the bustling streets of the U.S. or the crowded crosswalks of Japan, you’ll find me moving with a sense of urgency that suggests I’m perpetually late for something important. It’s a habit born not out of impatience, but from a deeper, more profound sense of hurry that once dominated my life.

Being a broad-shouldered guy, you might think this would result in a lot of bumped shoulders and annoyed glances. Thankfully, years of playing Dance Dance Revolution gave me an unlikely agility, allowing me to weave through crowds with surprising grace. But the speed of my feet was merely a physical manifestation of the speed of my mind, especially during my first two years of college.

Back then, my pace wasn’t just fast; it was frantic. The only way to describe it was “booking it,” a pun I fully intended. I was driven by a powerful, albeit irrational, belief: I had to achieve absolutely everything before I graduated. The clock was ticking, and I was convinced that my life’s potential would be locked in the moment I received my diploma.

The College Pressure Cooker: A Race Against an Imaginary Clock

As a goal-oriented person, I viewed college not as a period of exploration, but as a final, four-year sprint. In my mind, the path was linear: excel in college, get the degree, land the perfect job, and then… well, that was it. The game was over. The window of opportunity would slam shut.

Of course, a rational part of my brain knew this was absurd. I understood that learning, growth, and career advancement were lifelong pursuits. People get promotions, switch careers, and learn new skills well into their 50s and 60s. College isn’t the final chapter; it’s barely the prologue. Yet, despite this logical understanding, a deeper, more primal part of me refused to believe it.

This internal conflict fueled a relentless drive to overcommit. I treated my time in college like a frantic shopping spree on a game show, grabbing anything and everything that I thought would add value to my future self. My schedule became a patchwork of obligations: student clubs, administrative committees, technical skill workshops, and leadership roles. I signed up for anything that I believed would make my resume shine and set me apart from the thousands of other graduates who would soon be my competition.

On one hand, this hustle was beneficial. It protected me from the dangerous mindset that a college degree alone was a golden ticket to success. I was actively building, learning, and making tangible progress. But on the other hand, it came at a significant cost. I was spending an enormous amount of my precious time on activities that I didn’t genuinely enjoy or that weren’t truly aligned with my core ambitions. My decisions were based purely on their perceived professional value.

A perfect example of this was my sophomore year, when my academic advisor invited me to join the university’s “Academic Standards Committee.” It sounded impressive, right? My role on this esteemed committee was to review applications for reinstatement from students who had academically failed and been dismissed from the university. It was as thrilling as it sounds.

Sure, it was a line item on my resume. It also provided some face time with professors and deans. But in hindsight, it was a colossal waste of time. That time could have been invested in projects that genuinely excited me. I could have been building real relationships with professors in my field, demonstrating my passion and talent in ways that a committee meeting never could. I could have been writing, coding, or creating things that would have built a portfolio of actual, meaningful work.

The Myth of the Finish Line: Why We Struggle with Long-Term Vision

It turns out this short-term, high-pressure mindset is common among ambitious young people. We often struggle to see our lives and careers in the context of the long run. We feel an intense pressure to accomplish everything right now.

While listening to a podcast during a hike recently, I heard a quote from venture capitalist Brad Feld that perfectly articulated this challenge:

“The most challenging thing for a young entrepreneur is to think long-term. When you are 22 years old, it’s hard to think in 22-year increments since that’s as long as you’ve been alive. But it’s really important to view your life as an entrepreneur as a long journey that consists of many short-term cycles.”

This quote resonated deeply, and it helped me understand the roots of my old mindset. There are a couple of key reasons why we fall into this trap.

First, our frame of reference is limited. At 22, our meaningful, self-directed life experience only spans about 8-10 years. The rest was childhood. This relatively short period of consciously setting goals and working towards them makes it difficult to conceptualize a journey that will last another 40 or 50 years. A decade feels like an eternity.

Second, we are still shaking off the lingering societal concept of “job security.” The old narrative—do well in school, go to a good college, get a stable job, and you’re set for life—no longer reflects reality, but its cultural echo remains. This mindset subtly suggests that once you secure that “stable job,” the striving is over. It implies that the primary period for growth and achievement is before you enter the workforce.

This cultural hangover created a subconscious fear in me. I saw depictions in media and in real life of people who seemed to just… exist. They went to work, did their duties, came home, and relaxed. Their lives revolved around the weekend, as the band Loverboy famously sang. I developed a deep-seated fear that my post-graduation life would become a monotonous loop—a never-ending hell of “Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking.”

This fear drove my 19-year-old self to try and achieve every life goal immediately, before the beige walls of a cubicle closed in on me forever. Even though I knew this fate wasn’t predetermined, I felt it creeping closer with every passing semester.

Life After Graduation: The Journey Is Just Beginning

Well, I’ve graduated. It’s been more than six months since I walked across that stage. And guess what? I didn’t achieve everything. Not even close.

I’m proud of what I did accomplish. I managed to pay off my student debt before graduating, I turned this blog into a sustainable business, and I met some of my travel goals. But my grand list of life achievements remained largely unfinished. I’m still not fluent in Japanese. I haven’t written a novel. My “Impossible List” is still filled with items that don’t have a strikethrough next to them.

And the most surprising part? Nothing terrible happened. I wasn’t suddenly hit with an irresistible urge to settle down and stop trying. I’m not trapped in a cycle of soul-crushing drudgery. The drive to learn, grow, and achieve didn’t vanish when I got my diploma.

The reality is that the work continues. Just as it was in school, so it is in the real world: there are goals I have yet to achieve, and I must make a conscious choice every day to work towards them. And I will. I always will.

Today, I walk a little slower. I’m still quicker than most people on the sidewalk, but the frantic, panicked energy is gone. I’m no longer in such a desperate hurry.

The reason for this change is simple: I’ve realized I’m not just “working for the weekend.” The weekend isn’t a brief escape from a life of obligation; it’s simply two more days I have to build the life I want. Just like the other five days, I use that time to move toward my goals, to learn something new, to become a better version of myself, and to help and love the people around me.

This doesn’t mean I don’t relax or have fun. I absolutely do. But that relaxation is no longer a desperate respite from a life of stagnation. It’s part of a balanced, fulfilling existence. It’s simply enjoying the journey. And while I enjoy this life, I will keep progressing, step by step, now that the classes have ended and all the choices are my own.

Your life is not a sprint to a finish line called graduation. It’s a marathon, full of different phases, challenges, and opportunities for growth. Don’t sacrifice genuine passion for resume-padding. Don’t burn yourself out trying to achieve a lifetime’s worth of goals in four short years. Slow down, breathe, and adopt the long-term view. Your future self will thank you for it.

So should you.