Not alone.
Growing up, I kept waiting for adults to step in and make better decisions. Decisions that sustain life. Decisions that look beyond the now. At some point, I realised that a lot of them just weren't going to.
Not because they didn’t care, but because they had slowly been taught not to care. Somewhere along the way, being 'grown up' came to mean being sensible, rational and realistic. I couldn't understand why these words had started to sound so much like resignation.
That question stayed with me. I became frustrated with how fixed the grown-up world felt. I was frustrated by how quickly imagination was dismissed as naïve. Instead, I was drawn to the idea of a growth mindset: the belief that perception can change; that capacity isn't static; and that learning doesn't stop just because something becomes inconvenient.
So I changed direction and started working with children. What struck me immediately was this: children already know that the world is in trouble. Plastic pollution isn't a "future scenario" to them; it's a fact. A given. It felt absurd to ask them to take responsibility for fixing something they had no power to change. It felt like adding one layer of doom to another.
When I left that system, I promised those children something. I would build a school, not just for them, but for all of us. A school of thought for grown-ups. The children do not need to clean this up. It’s us. And we’re late.
The idea amused them. Sending their parents back to school seemed like a fair idea. Necessary. And they were right. Children aren't unrealistic. They aren’t irrational. They haven’t given up. We call them naïve, but they are actually clear-eyed, grounded and deeply intelligent. If you tell a child that meat comes from a dead animal and that plastic harms the planet, they won't look away. They ask better questions. They ask questions that make adults uncomfortable because they expose how much of our world relies on quick fixes and quiet compromises.
This discomfort matters.
For me, growing up doesn’t mean losing that clarity. It means holding onto it and helping others see it again. I want to build a future we can actually step into. One that carries more than just me.
I don’t believe my perspective is unique. I think most of us have simply learned not to listen to our intuition. Children are trained to use it. Adults are trained to override it. And yet, it’s exactly the capacity we now need most.
Turning forty made something painfully clear: I am the grown-up I’ve been waiting for.
Maybe you are too.
And maybe it’s time to stop waiting. To stop thinking small. To stop keeping hope private.
There is a particular kind of loneliness that comes with still caring — not the loneliness of being alone, but the loneliness of looking at the world and wondering: Am I the only one who hasn’t given up? Around 69% of people want to take action toward a better future. Meaningful change. Not cosmetic fixes. And yet, most of us believe we’re alone in feeling this.
That belief is one of the most effective brakes on collective change.
When hope feels lonely, it becomes silent. We don't stop caring; we just stop showing it. We dim the brightness of our imagination. We adapt to a world that feels smaller than what we sense is possible. This isn’t accidental. Systems don’t need us to give up. They only need us to believe that we are alone.
Think of a time when your energy levels returned, not because the situation had improved, but because someone else recognised what you saw. This kind of recognition restores perspective. Maybe I’m not wrong. Maybe I’m early. Maybe I’m not alone.
That’s why the stories we tell about hope matter.
When hope is framed as naïve or individual, it becomes fragile. When it’s framed as shared, structural, and quietly widespread, it becomes a latent force.
The problem isn’t a lack of care. It’s a lack of visibility.
If you feel a quiet refusal to accept the world 'as it is', that doesn't mean you're failing to be realistic. It's a signal, and signals only make sense in relation to others. The future doesn't need louder arguments. It needs more recognition.
You were never alone. You were just ahead of your time in a world that hasn't yet learned to recognise itself. So if this resonates, you’re already part of the conversation 🤝.
Stay curious. Stay courageous.
