The Outgrowing Everyone Moment
Well, this is awkward. Apparently, I've accidentally become the person I used to roll my eyes at, and I'm having some complicated feelings about it.
It started innocently enough. I stopped agreeing to every happy hour invite because I actually wanted to go home and work on my side business instead of complaining about my life over $15 cocktails. Revolutionary behavior for someone who used to think networking meant getting drunk with coworkers every Friday.
Then I caught myself declining a girls' weekend because I didn't want to blow $400 on a trip just to take Instagram photos and nurse hangovers. Old Kayla would have put it on a credit card and dealt with the financial trauma later. New Kayla apparently has "priorities" and "boundaries." Gross.
The real wake-up call came last week when my friend group was planning another "retail therapy" session at Target, and I genuinely had zero interest in wandering around aimlessly buying things I didn't need with money I was trying to save. The audacity of my own character development never ceases to amaze me.
I found myself saying things like "I'm trying to be more intentional with my spending" and "I've got some goals I'm working toward," which are apparently the adult equivalent of "I can't come out to play anymore because I'm doing homework." Very fun at parties, let me tell you.
The most jarring part? I started enjoying my Saturday mornings more when I spent them reading business books and planning my week instead of recovering from whatever chaos I'd gotten into the night before. Who is this person, and what did she do with my former party-girl energy?
But here's where it gets complicated: this new version of me is kind of... lonely?
My group chat used to be constant complaints about work, money problems, and dating disasters. Now when I try to talk about my business ideas or investment goals, I get responses like "okay Warren Buffett" or complete radio silence. Apparently, growth makes people uncomfortable when they're not ready to grow with you.
The friends who used to love my chaotic energy now act like I've joined a cult. The cult of "having my shit together," which honestly feels pretty cult-ish when you're the only one drinking the Kool-Aid.
I've become that person who actually reads before bed instead of scrolling TikTok until 2 AM. I meal prep on Sundays like some sort of functional adult. I have a morning routine that doesn't involve frantically searching for clean clothes while running late. It's disturbing how much I don't hate it.
But the weirdest part? I'm starting to attract different people. People who also have goals and routines and don't think wanting financial stability is "boring." People who get excited about business ideas instead of just complaining about being broke. It's like I've unlocked a whole new level of human interaction.
The old me would have called these people "try-hards" and made fun of their planners and their 6 AM gym sessions. Plot twist: I am now the try-hard with the planner and questionable morning habits.
So here I am, caught between two worlds. Too evolved for my old circle, too new to fully belong in my upgraded one. It's like being stuck in the awkward middle phase of personal growth where you're not who you used to be, but you're not quite who you're becoming either.
The most infuriating part? I can't even go back. Once you've tasted what it feels like to have goals and work toward them, once you've experienced the satisfaction of choosing growth over comfort, there's no un-knowing it. The door to your old chaos closes behind you whether you like it or not.
Is this what they call "leveling up"? Because nobody warned me it would feel this isolating. Nobody mentioned that outgrowing your old life means outgrowing the people in it, and that's equal parts exciting and heartbreaking.
I guess this is what they mean when they say "not everyone is meant to come with you on your journey." Very inspiring when it's a quote on Instagram, significantly more complicated when it's your actual life.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read my business book and pretend I'm not having an identity crisis about becoming a responsible adult. Character development hits different when you're the only one in your friend group doing it.
Growing up is weird, y'all. Would not recommend, but apparently, it's happening anyway.