Sometimes the Best Paths Are the Ones You Never Planned

One of the conversations I have with young people isn't actually about anxiety or depression. It's about the future.

"What if I choose the wrong GCSEs?"

"What if I don't know what I want to do?"

"What if everyone else has already figured it out?"

For many young people, these questions carry an enormous amount of pressure. There can be an overwhelming sense that they should already know what they want their future to look like, with a clear pathway mapped out to get there. Not knowing can quickly become scrambled up with feelings of failure, as though somehow, they have already fallen behind.

As a Clinical Psychologist, I often notice that uncertainty and failure become confused. And yet, they are not the same thing.

It saddens me to see so many young people feeling trapped by a stage of life that has the potential to be so much more than a checklist of qualifications and career milestones. This journey of decision-making could instead become a pathway to discovery, growth, creativity, curiosity and experience.

When I was choosing my GCSEs, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. The only thing I knew for certain was that I couldn't wait to drop Religious Studies! I was terrible at it and there was far too much colouring involved.

I was fortunate in that, for the most part, I loved learning. I know that isn't everyone's experience, but for me, learning itself was something I genuinely enjoyed.

When it came to choosing A Levels, I still had no grand career plan. So, I did something wonderfully unstrategic —I simply picked the subjects I enjoyed: Textiles, Theatre Studies, English Literature and Psychology.

Textiles didn't last beyond AS Level. I loved designing clothes. Whilst my artistic ability is, quite frankly, questionable (many of the young people I work with still enjoy reminding me of my attempts to draw a lion during anxiety work!), I had a huge imagination for design. Unfortunately, I absolutely detested sewing. It turns out enjoying the idea of something and enjoying the reality of it are two very different things!

During my final year at college, I applied to study Creative Writing and Theatre Studies at university. Alongside this, I volunteered in the lighting department at my local theatre. I was never destined to be centre stage, but I loved being part of the creativity behind the scenes. I even got a place at a university in London. I was drawn to a dream, a building that reminded me of Hogwarts, an unspoken promise of new beginnings and eventual success. I was excited and nervous.

But despite all of that... it still didn't feel right.

I couldn't have explained why at the time. I just knew that I still had no real idea what I wanted my future to look like, and I worried that choosing the "wrong" path might somehow trap me there forever.

So, I paused.

Instead of going to university, I worked in retail. I explored my creative side. I completed a course in theatrical and media make-up. I loved it, but I realised that the life of a make-up artist wasn't for me. I started a hairdressing course.

I hated it.

So, I never finished.

Looking back, none of these experiences were failures. At the time, though, they definitely felt like false starts.

I think that's something we don't talk about enough. We often look back on our lives and edit out the detours, as though they somehow don't count. Yet those are often the experiences where we begin to understand ourselves a little better.

At 21, I decided to go to university to study a combined degree in Creative Writing and Psychology. Not because I'd suddenly discovered my life's calling, but because the university fee structure was changing and I convinced myself it was a case of "now or never". I'd enjoyed psychology at college, so I thought... why not?

Returning to education wasn't easy. Even after only a three-year break, essay writing felt like a distant memory. I was older than many of the other students, I continued living at home and worked alongside my studies. It was hard.

But I loved learning.

Somewhere along the way, my inner geek reappeared.

After my first year, I dropped Creative Writing. Psychology had quietly become the subject that genuinely captured my attention.

Graduation arrived... and I still had no idea what I wanted to do.

I worked in business development. I worked with engineers producing reports. I worked behind a bar. Eventually, I returned to university, this time as a researcher.

Every role taught me something.

Every role stretched me in different ways.

And every role also taught me something about myself.

What remained consistent was that, once I had mastered the role and the challenge faded, I often became bored. I began to realise that what energised me wasn't routine—it was learning, problem-solving and understanding people.

Looking back now, those jobs weren't detours. They were quietly teaching me things that I still draw upon every day as a Clinical Psychologist.

Somewhere around my mid-twenties, the idea of Clinical Psychology appeared.

Honestly, I still don't really know where it came from. The timeline has become a little blurred over the years. I think, all my detours had taught me to look for a job that was full of variation. Something that would continuously capture my attention. Something that was constantly challenging. Something creative (without the need to be an artist). Something that involved people, stories and never quite knowing what each day would bring.

What I do remember, though, is the journey that came before it.

Those years helped me grow in confidence. They taught me resilience. They showed me what captured my attention and what didn't. They helped me understand the values I wanted to live by and the kind of person I hoped to become.

Perhaps most importantly, they introduced me to a wide range of different people, each of whom taught me something I still carry today.

There was so much growth in the uncertainty.

So much growth in not knowing.

I honestly don't think I would be the clinician I am today if my path had been perfectly planned.

If anything, all those unexpected turns made me a better psychologist. They gave me experiences, perspectives and compassion that I could never have learnt from a textbook alone.

If you'd asked sixteen-year-old me whether I'd one day become a Clinical Psychologist, I would almost certainly have laughed.

She wanted to design clothes.

She worked backstage in a theatre.

She tried make-up.

She briefly attempted hairdressing.

She worked in retail.

She worked in business.

She became a researcher.

None of those paths were wasted.

They all became part of the psychologist I eventually grew into.

So, if you're reading this because you're worried that you've already fallen behind—whether you're 15, 32 or 65—this is my gentle reminder that you probably haven't.

Sometimes the greatest periods of growth happen during the uncertain, unplanned and uncharted chapters of our lives.

Try things.

Be curious.

Discover what energises you and what doesn't.

Allow yourself to change your mind.

Allow yourself to take a different path.

You don't need to have your whole future mapped out today.

One day, often when you least expect it, you'll look back and realise that the winding path wasn't taking you away from where you were meant to be.

It was quietly leading you there all along.