Why Feeling Lost Is Actually Good for You (and How to Embrace It)
Sometimes losing your way is the start of finding yourself.
The first time I really felt lost in life was during a mind-numbing 11th-grade math class. I was supposed to be focusing on formulas and theorems, but instead, my mind drifted—to a car I’d seen on my way to school, to the person driving it, to everything except math. By the end of class, I realized I hadn’t absorbed a single thing, but that wandering somehow felt important.
That was the start of something bigger. I began to notice that some of my most meaningful thoughts happened when I “zoned out”—questioning why school felt disconnected from real life, or why I was so drawn to things outside the syllabus. I found comfort in letting my thoughts wander, often making connections between totally unrelated things, like remembering my grandmother’s daily habits and realizing how those small routines actually shaped my values.
College was a turning point. Instead of sticking to textbooks, I started reading self-help and philosophy books. Sometimes I’d just sit in silence, letting the ideas sink in, asking myself how they related to my actual life. One day it hit me: no degree would guarantee happiness. That moment of feeling lost led me to trust self-learning over the rigid education system.
Whenever life got overwhelming, I’d slow everything down—just sit, think, and mentally break my problems into smaller pieces. To anyone else, it probably looked like I was just staring into space, but it was actually my way of working through complicated feelings. These moments of “doing nothing” taught me how to handle the messiness of life.
““Not all those who wander are lost.”
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— J.R.R. Tolkien
I remember one recent moment: I was indecisive about meeting a friend. I let my mind run wild with “what ifs”—and after some honest, deep thinking, I decided to go. On the day of the meet, the weather turned unexpectedly pleasant, and I realized that sometimes, when you listen to your gut (and get a little lost), things work out better than you expect.
But for a long time, I felt ashamed of this habit. Society says daydreaming is lazy, that you should always “be present.” I tried to force myself to think less, to “fit in,” and honestly, I was more lost than ever. Only later did I realize that ignoring my own nature was the real problem.
One of the biggest shifts happened after I read “The Power of Your Subconscious Mind.” I learned that our deepest intentions often find a way to shape reality. When I failed to get into an MBA program, it was crushing—but the time I’d spent reflecting on my choices changed me more than success ever could. Feeling lost wasn’t a setback; it was a wake-up call that led to a new path.
We live in a world obsessed with speed. Shorter exams, endless reels, everything designed to keep us moving. Real thinking—slow, deep, uncomfortable—has become almost taboo. My friends scroll social media to fill every silence, but I’ve learned that those quiet, lost moments are where real answers show up.
Building “Tink On It” was a perfect example. I struggled with the design, felt stuck, and let my mind stew on it for days. Only when I trusted that process did the ideas finally click, often in unexpected ways—like dreaming about a color scheme or visualizing a layout during a walk.
If I could give advice to anyone feeling lost right now, it would be this: Don’t rush to “fix” it. Trust your gut. Don’t be afraid of making mistakes—sometimes the wrong path teaches you the most. And don’t let others convince you that being lost is a flaw. Some of your best ideas and biggest growth will come from wandering off the obvious path.
The truth is, being lost has brought me moments of unexpected clarity—solutions to problems, new perspectives, and a much better sense of myself. When I’m stuck, I now give myself permission to sit quietly, let my mind roam, and trust that an answer will show up (often right before I fall asleep).
If you feel lost, maybe you’re just on the edge of discovering something new. Sometimes, being lost is exactly where you need to be.
Got your own “lost and found” story? I’d love to hear it—drop it in the feedback box below. We’re all wandering together, after all.