There’s a specific kind of panic that comes with doing something for the first time as an adult. You start a new job and suddenly feel like you’re terrible at your career. You move somewhere new and wonder why you haven’t immediately built a life there. You start dating someone you really like and every unfamiliar feeling becomes something you need to analyze. You take on more responsibility, try something you’ve never done before, walk into a room where everyone seems more experienced than you, and immediately start wondering whether you belong there.

The strange thing is that we rarely give ourselves much time to be new at anything.

We want to walk into a new job and know exactly what we're doing. We want to start going to the gym and immediately feel comfortable. We want to move to a new city and have our favorite places and closest friends within a month. We want to start a relationship and somehow already know how to navigate every disagreement, insecurity and uncomfortable conversation.

Then, when something feels difficult, we interpret the difficulty as evidence.

Maybe I'm not good at this. Maybe I made the wrong decision. Maybe everyone else is better at this than I am. Maybe I can't handle it.

Or maybe it’s not hard.

Maybe it’s just new.

We’re Really Bad at Being Beginners

One of the pieces of advice I came across while recording an episode of Guyset was almost annoyingly simple: It’s not hard, it’s just new.

I immediately understood what it meant because I've experienced the opposite thought so many times. Something new happens and your brain treats the discomfort like proof that something is wrong.

“It feels really hard. It feels like the most intense thing. It feels like it's weighing you down. It feels like it's impossible. It feels like you're never gonna be able to figure it out.”

But think about how many things in your life used to feel difficult that you now do without thinking.

Your first day at a job probably felt different from your hundredth. The first time you walked into a gym might have felt completely different from the day you knew exactly where everything was. Your first date probably felt different from your fiftieth. Driving once required your full attention. So did navigating an airport alone, cooking for yourself, paying bills, interviewing for a job or having a difficult conversation with someone you care about.

You didn't necessarily become a completely different person.

The thing stopped being new.

That distinction matters because when we label something as hard, we can accidentally make a much bigger judgment about ourselves. Hard can start to mean I'm bad at this. New gives you somewhere to go. New means you haven't had enough repetitions yet.

Psychology Today has written about what psychologists call the “beginner’s mindset,” which involves approaching unfamiliar experiences with openness instead of assuming you should already know exactly what you're doing. That sounds obvious until you realize how often adulthood encourages the opposite. We spend a lot of time trying to look like we know what we're doing, even when almost everyone is figuring something out as they go.

This is especially true in your 20s because so much of your life actually is new.

Your 20s Are Basically a Decade of First Times

You can be 25 years old and technically an adult while encountering something you've never dealt with before every few months.

Maybe this is your first real full-time job. Your first time managing someone. Your first time getting negative feedback from a boss. Your first serious relationship. Your first breakup with someone you genuinely thought you might stay with. Your first time paying rent without help. Your first time negotiating a salary. Your first time losing a friendship you thought would last forever. Your first time being responsible for your own insurance, taxes, career decisions, money and future.

Why would you already know how to do all of that?

Part of the problem is that everyone around you also becomes much better at hiding when they don't know what they're doing. In school, being a beginner was expected. You took Intro to Something before you took the advanced class. You were given assignments, feedback and a syllabus that told you what was coming next.

Adult life doesn't work like that.

You can get promoted on Friday and become someone's manager on Monday. You can meet someone and suddenly find yourself navigating the most serious relationship you've ever had. You can get an opportunity you desperately wanted and realize that nobody is going to hand you instructions for what to do once you get it.

This is part of why I think so many of us end up feeling behind. As I wrote in The Inner Monologue of Your 20s, there’s a constant feeling during this decade that you should somehow know what comes next even though so much of what you're experiencing is happening for the first time.

Sometimes the most reassuring thing you can tell yourself is also the simplest: Of course I don't know how to do this yet. I've never done it before.

Feeling Uncomfortable Doesn’t Mean You Made the Wrong Choice

This is where being new can become dangerous. We are very quick to mistake discomfort for a sign that we should leave.

The new job feels overwhelming, so maybe I chose the wrong career. The first few weeks in a new city feel lonely, so maybe I shouldn't have moved. Dating someone seriously makes me vulnerable, so maybe this relationship isn't right. Starting a project makes me feel completely unqualified, so maybe I'm not the person who should be doing it.

Sometimes those instincts are right. A bad job can be a bad job. A relationship can be wrong for you. You can make a decision and later realize it wasn't the right one.

But discomfort alone isn't enough evidence.

Harvard Business Review has explored how periods of transition can disrupt our sense of identity because we’re leaving behind something familiar before we've fully settled into what comes next. That uncomfortable middle can make uncertainty feel like failure when it may simply be part of adjusting to a new role or stage of life.

That’s why I think you need to give certain decisions enough time to become normal before you decide they were mistakes.

The first week isn't the whole job. The first month isn't the whole city. One awkward date isn't the whole relationship. Your first attempt isn't the final version of what you're capable of doing.

Sometimes you need to stay in the uncomfortable part long enough to find out who you are on the other side of it.

Confidence Usually Comes After You Start

We tend to imagine confidence as something you need before you do the scary thing. Once I feel confident, I'll speak up in the meeting. Once I feel confident, I'll go on the date. Once I feel confident, I'll apply for the job. Once I feel confident, I'll start the project.

But that order is usually backwards.

You do something badly. Then you do it again. Then you do it slightly better. Eventually you collect enough evidence that your brain stops treating the situation like an emergency.

That’s the idea behind Why Confidence Comes After Action. Confidence isn't always the thing that gets you started. A lot of the time, starting is what creates the confidence.

And there is actual psychology behind that process. The American Psychological Association describes self-efficacy as a person's belief in their ability to perform a task or achieve a goal, and one of the strongest ways we build that belief is through mastery experiences: actually doing something and seeing ourselves make progress.

You need the repetitions.

This was another piece of advice that came up in the episode:

“You have to do the work every single day. You have to put in the work.”

There really isn't a shortcut around that. If you want to become good at your job, you have to spend time being less good at it. If you want to get comfortable dating, you have to go on dates that don't go perfectly. If you want to become a better writer, creator, manager, friend, partner or anything else, you have to accumulate enough experience to become one.

We sometimes look at someone who is good at something and forget about the thousands of moments that happened before we started paying attention to them.

You're seeing their hundredth repetition from your first.

Of course they look more comfortable.

Give Yourself More Time Than You Think You Need

There’s another piece of advice from the episode that connects directly to this:

“There's no timeline on figuring yourself out. There's no timeline on figuring it out.”

I think a lot of the anxiety around being new comes from the timeline we secretly put on becoming good.

I should understand my job by now. I should have more friends here by now. I should know whether this relationship is going somewhere by now. I should be further along by now.

But who decided by now?

If you constantly feel like other people have adapted to adulthood faster than you have, How To Stop Comparing Yourself to Everyone Else is worth reading because comparison makes being a beginner infinitely harder. You aren't just learning anymore. You're judging how quickly you're learning against somebody who might have started years before you.

The goal isn't to become comfortable with everything immediately. The goal is to become comfortable with the fact that sometimes you're going to be uncomfortable.

That’s a skill too.

You can walk into a situation thinking, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, without adding, and therefore I don't belong here.

You can be nervous about something without deciding you aren't capable of it. You can struggle without assuming you'll always struggle. You can have a bad first attempt without turning it into a prediction about every attempt that comes after it.

And maybe most importantly, you can be new without being behind.

Don’t Quit During the Part Where You’re Supposed to Be Bad at It

There are absolutely times when quitting is the right decision. But before you walk away from something because you don't think you're good enough, ask yourself whether you've actually given yourself enough time to become good.

Because there are no shortcuts around the awkward middle.

You can't skip from I've never done this before to I'm great at this. There is a whole stretch in between where you ask stupid questions, make mistakes, feel awkward, need help, overthink things and occasionally wonder whether you're capable of doing any of it.

That's the part where you're learning.

And if you're already prone to feeling like everyone else is further ahead, that period can be brutal. But as I wrote in How To Stop Comparing Yourself to Everyone Else, somebody else's progress doesn't tell you what yours is supposed to look like.

The person who looks completely comfortable in the meeting once sat through a meeting where they were terrified to speak. The person who seems effortless on a date has had awkward dates. The person who's great at their job has made mistakes. The person who built something impressive probably has an early version of it they would be embarrassed to show you.

They were new too.

They just kept going long enough that eventually they weren't.

And Here’s The Thing

I think we would all be a little easier on ourselves if we got better at separating this is difficult from I can't do this.

Because those aren't the same thing.

There will be moments in your 20s when you feel completely out of your depth. You will walk into rooms where you don't know anyone. You will get opportunities you aren't totally prepared for. You will make decisions without knowing exactly how they'll turn out. You will start jobs, relationships, friendships and projects without knowing how to be good at them yet.

That doesn't mean you made a mistake.

It might just mean you're growing into a version of your life you haven't lived before.

Ask questions. Pay attention. Let yourself make mistakes. Give yourself more than one attempt. Do the work. Keep showing up.

And the next time something new feels impossibly hard, don't immediately ask yourself whether you're capable of doing it.

Ask yourself whether you've simply never done it before.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why does everything new feel so difficult?

New situations require more attention because you don't yet have experience or routines to rely on. As you repeat something and learn what to expect, it often begins to feel much more manageable.

How long should I give myself to adjust to something new?

There isn't one universal timeline. A new job, relationship, city or responsibility may take weeks or months to feel normal. Instead of asking whether you're completely comfortable yet, look for whether you're gradually learning and adapting.

How do I know if something is actually wrong or just new?

Look beyond discomfort. Ask whether the situation conflicts with your values, consistently makes your life worse or shows real signs that it isn't right for you. Feeling nervous, inexperienced or uncomfortable by itself doesn't necessarily mean you've made the wrong decision.

How do I become more confident when trying something new?

Start before you feel completely confident. Take small actions, repeat them and pay attention to the evidence that you're improving. Confidence often develops from experience rather than appearing before it.

Is it normal to feel like I don't know what I'm doing in my 20s?

Absolutely. Your 20s contain a huge number of new responsibilities, decisions and transitions. Not knowing how to handle something you've never experienced before doesn't mean you're behind. It means you're learning.