Ambition or Laziness? Finding Balance After Milestones

As I sat there in Whitworth Hall on 12th December, ready to receive my Master’s in Public International Law from the University of Manchester, I couldn’t quite articulate how I felt. I had achieved a distinction. I had worked my arse off for a year, and this moment was supposed to be the culmination of all that effort—the fruit of countless sleepless nights, sacrifices, and sheer determination. My dearest friends and family were in the crowd, some travelling thousands of miles just to witness this milestone.

Naturally, I should have been overjoyed, right? Even as I exited the hall and joined my colleagues in the courtyard for a photoshoot worthy of an A-list celebrity red carpet, I couldn’t shake this strange internal conflict. I posed for pictures, danced around, and kissed my loved ones, but at times I found myself consciously reminding myself to smile. To be happy. To celebrate. On the outside, I looked ecstatic, but on the inside, I felt… unsettled.

That night, as I lay in bed, the whirlwind of thoughts hit me like a freight train. It took me four hours to fall asleep, every single doubt, fear, and question I’d ever had flooding back. Thank God I eventually did manage to sleep—I had a six-hour drive home the next morning.

The truth is, I had a rough plan for life after university. There were key priorities: starting a Modern Standard Arabic course, setting up my website, sorting out my investments, applying for my PhD. But there were also glaring uncertainties. I hadn’t landed a graduate job to start immediately. For the first time in my life, I was stepping into uncharted territory: my first year out of education, ever.

It felt like the safety net had been yanked out from under me. I’d been nudged off a metaphorical balcony into the real world, and two sharply contrasting voices seemed to be shouting in my ears. On one side: “Why don’t you have everything figured out, you bum? You’re a beta who will never amount to anything!” And on the other: “It’s okayyyyyy to not know what you’re doing. Take your timeeeee. Relax, have fun!”

Admittedly, these are exaggerated extremes, but they echo sentiments I’ve encountered. The former is emblematic of the rise of ‘red pill’ culture—the notion that men should suppress feelings, work relentlessly, and achieve millionaire status by 25, or they’re destined to be ‘brokies.’ The latter, in contrast, is the voice of reassurance I heard from the Dean of Social Sciences during my graduation ceremony. He told us that not knowing what to do after university is “normal—if anything, it is expected.”

I sat there, trying to make sense of these conflicting messages, and I wasn’t convinced by either. Was I supposed to know, word for word, exactly what I was going to do with my life straight out of university? That seemed unrealistic. But at the same time, I couldn’t fully embrace the idea of taking it easy and being okay with not doing anything. That didn’t sit right with me either.

What I’ve realised since is that the sweet spot lies somewhere in the middle. Life after university doesn’t have to be a sprint, nor should it be a free fall. It’s a process—a journey of learning, adapting, and growing. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you don’t have all the answers yet. In fact, it’s completely normal. But at the same time, there’s value in setting goals, pushing yourself, and striving to be your best version.

For me, this middle ground has been about finding a balance between ambition and self-compassion. It’s about recognising that success doesn’t come overnight, but also understanding that taking the first step—no matter how small—is crucial. It’s about embracing uncertainty while staying proactive, and realising that life isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about figuring it out as you go.

So, to anyone else in this phase of change, my advice is this: don’t let the extremes dictate your path. If you don’t have a five-year plan, that’s okay. If you’re not earning six figures yet, that’s okay too. But don’t settle for stagnation. Start somewhere, even if it’s small. Make progress in any way you can—whether it’s picking up a skill, sending off that job application, or even just making time to reflect on your next steps.

Be kind to yourself, but also hold yourself accountable. Set goals that excite you, but don’t let the pressure of unrealistic expectations weigh you down. The journey isn’t a straight line, and that’s okay. You’ll figure it out. We all do, eventually.

As Imam Ali Ibn Abi Talib (AS) wisely said:

“Moderation leads to increase, and extravagance leads to destruction.”

(Al-Kafi, The Book of Zakat)

Strive for balance in all things. It’s where growth happens, where clarity emerges, and where you’ll find your path forward.

Love and blessings,

Bilal

1 comment