Muiz Aziz

Am I building a future, or simply getting through one day at a time?

Someone once asked me a question.

“Where do you see yourself in five years? Can you imagine yourself in that position? And what is your plan to get there?”

It should have been a simple question.

If you know what you want, all you have to do is describe your dream and explain how you intend to achieve it.

But I couldn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t know how to put my thoughts into words.

The truth was, I wasn’t even sure what I wanted from life anymore.

And the longer I thought about that question, the more questions started appearing in my mind.

What exactly have I been working towards all these years?

1. When Life Becomes a Routine

When I think about it, my life isn’t actually bad.

I have a job. I earn a decent living. I have a family I love, a home to return to, and little things that still make me happy.

Every morning, I wake up and go to work.

At the office, I do whatever needs to be done. I solve problems, attend meetings, prepare reports, fulfil responsibilities, and try to keep everything running smoothly.

Then I go home.

With whatever time and energy I have left, I try to enjoy the remaining hours of my day.

Having dinner with my family. Talking to my children. Watching something on television. Playing my guitar. Or sometimes, simply doing nothing because I’m too exhausted to do anything else.

The next morning, the same cycle begins.

Monday becomes Tuesday. Tuesday becomes Wednesday. Before I know it, it’s Friday again. Weekends are what I look forward to the most. Time for my family. Time for myself. Time to do the things I genuinely enjoy.

And then Monday comes around again.

That’s my life. And the strange thing is, I don’t actually hate it. But every now and then, a question crosses my mind.

Am I living a life I’ve consciously chosen, or am I simply living the life that happened while I was busy fulfilling my responsibilities?

There is a difference. One is a life you intentionally build. The other is a life you continue living because it’s what you’ve always done.

And lately, I’ve been wondering whether I’ve slowly drifted into the second one.

2. Maybe I Do Have Dreams. I’ve Just Stopped Believing in Them.

When someone asks us about our dreams, sometimes our answer is, “I don’t know.”

But perhaps the truth isn’t that we don’t know. Maybe deep down, we know exactly what we want. We’ve just spent so much time convincing ourselves that it’s impossible.

I’ve thought about doing something different. Learning new skills. Building something of my own. Sharing my knowledge and experiences. Doing work that feels more meaningful than simply completing whatever tasks land on my desk.

But whenever those thoughts appear, another voice quickly interrupts.

“You’re already 40.”

“You’ve spent too many years in the same industry.”

“Isn’t it too late to start learning something new?”

“What about your family commitments?”

“What happens if you fail?”

And before I’ve even given myself a chance to try, I’ve already come up with a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t. I think this is one of the strange things about becoming an adult.

When we were children, people constantly asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.

A doctor? An engineer? A musician? A business owner? We could imagine almost anything.

But as we get older, the question changes.

Instead of asking, “What do I want?”

We start asking, “What can I realistically do without disrupting the life I already have?”

Our dreams become filtered through responsibilities, past experiences, financial risks, and fear. Eventually, we don’t just stop chasing our dreams.

We stop allowing ourselves to imagine them.

3. Am I Already Too Late?

I think this is one of the thoughts that troubles me the most. The feeling that my window of opportunity is slowly closing.

If I want to learn something new, there are already people who have spent ten or twenty years mastering that field.

If I want to start a business, others have been building theirs since their twenties.

If I want to change careers, I’ll be competing with younger people who might have more energy, fewer commitments, and a greater willingness to take risks.

So what advantage do I have left?

But the more I think about it, the more I realise that perhaps I’ve been looking at this from the wrong perspective.

I’ve always assumed that starting something new means starting from zero. But I’m not starting from zero. I have years of working experience.

I’ve dealt with difficult situations, solved problems, managed people, made mistakes, and learned lessons that I probably wouldn’t have understood when I was 25. Those experiences may not automatically make me an expert in a new field.

But they still have value.

For example, if I wanted to become a trainer, I would probably need to learn instructional techniques, develop training materials, and understand how adults learn.

But years of working in a real organisation have already given me something that cannot be gained simply by reading textbooks.

Real-world experience.

Maybe I don’t need to abandon everything I’ve built to create a different future. Maybe I just need to figure out how to use what I already have to move in a new direction.

And when it comes to age, there’s another uncomfortable truth. The next five years will pass whether I try something new or not. At 45, I could still be in exactly the same position, wondering why I didn’t start when I was 40.

Or I could have five years of experience building something that genuinely matters to me. I don’t know whether I’ll succeed. But at least I won’t have to spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I had tried.

4. Maybe My Problem Isn’t a Lack of Dreams. Maybe I’m Waiting for Certainty.

There’s something I’ve noticed about myself.

I like to plan.

I want to know where a decision will lead me, what the risks are, what the outcome might be, and whether the effort will be worth it.

The problem is that when it comes to the future, not everything can be figured out in advance.

How would I know whether I could become a good trainer if I’ve never seriously tried teaching?

How would I know whether I could build a business if I’ve never tested an idea with actual customers?

How would I know whether I would enjoy a particular career if I’ve only imagined what it might be like?

Perhaps I’ve been waiting to feel confident before taking action.

But sometimes, confidence doesn’t come before action. It comes because of action.

In psychology, there’s a concept called self-efficacy, extensively studied by psychologist Albert Bandura.

In simple terms, self-efficacy refers to our belief in our ability to perform a particular task or achieve a particular outcome.

One of the most important sources of that belief is what Bandura called mastery experiences — experiences in which we successfully accomplish something ourselves.

We don’t necessarily become more confident just by telling ourselves that we’re capable. We become more confident when we have actual evidence that we can do something. And that evidence often begins with small successes.

Maybe that’s why I need to stop asking myself:

“Am I capable of becoming the person I want to be?”

And start asking:

“What’s one small thing I can try today to find out whether this dream is actually right for me?”

5. I Don’t Need to Figure Out My Entire Life Today

Whenever I think about changing my future, I tend to imagine big decisions.

Changing jobs. Starting a business. Going back to school. Leaving behind the life I’ve grown comfortable with.

And honestly, all of those things feel intimidating.

But perhaps meaningful change doesn’t always have to begin with a life-changing decision.

Maybe it can start with a few small experiments.

If I’m interested in teaching, I could begin by conducting a knowledge-sharing session.

If I want to understand business, I could start learning how companies generate revenue, manage costs, and attract customers.

If I want to create something through writing or videos, I could keep producing content and see whether I still enjoy the process after doing it consistently.

Not everything needs to become a career.

Not everything needs to generate income.

Some things are worth doing simply because they bring meaning to our lives.

And some things are worth doing because we genuinely enjoy them.

I also need to accept that not every passion should become a source of income.

Sometimes, turning something we love into an obligation can change the very thing that made us love it in the first place.

So maybe the first step isn’t to choose one enormous dream. Maybe it’s simply to give myself permission to explore. Without immediately risking my family’s financial stability. Without feeling the need to prove anything to anyone. And without treating every unsuccessful attempt as a personal failure.

6. So What Should I Actually Do Now?

I think I need to stop searching for the perfect answer to the question, “Where do I want to be in five years?”

Instead, I can begin with three things.

First, define the life I want, not just the position I want.

Whenever people talk about the future, the conversation usually revolves around career progression.

Becoming a manager. A director. A department head. A business owner.

But a job title is only one part of life.

What’s the point of achieving a higher position if I end up having no time for my family?

What’s the point of earning more money if I’m too exhausted every day to enjoy it?

Perhaps I should be asking more fundamental questions.

What do I want an ordinary day in my life to look like five years from now?

What kind of work would make me feel useful?

How much time do I want to spend with my family?

What skills would I like to master?

What would I like to create, build, or contribute to the world?

Maybe answering these questions will give me a clearer picture of the future than simply imagining a particular job title.

Second, choose one direction to explore for 90 days.

I don’t need to transform my entire life in three months.

I just need to choose one thing I’ve always wanted to try.

Then set a small, measurable outcome.

For example, if I want to explore a career in training, I could spend 90 days developing a short training module, delivering it to a small group, and collecting feedback.

Afterwards, I could evaluate the experience.

Did I enjoy the process?

Do I have abilities worth developing further?

Did other people benefit from what I shared?

Would I want to do it again?

Answers based on real experience are far more valuable than spending months imagining what might happen.

Third, stop treating my personal ambitions as something that deserves only my leftover time.

This might be the most important change of all.

Right now, I give most of my energy to work and daily responsibilities. Then I try to use whatever energy remains to build the life I want. But by the time I get home, I’m usually tired. And my dreams end up at the bottom of the priority list.

I can’t keep expecting something important to grow if I only give it whatever time and energy happen to be left over. Maybe I need to set aside just two hours a week to build something for my own future.

Two hours might not sound like much. But two hours a week adds up to roughly 100 hours a year. Over five years, that’s around 500 hours.

I can’t guarantee what those hours will produce but 500 hours of learning, experimenting, and creating something is certainly different from spending five years simply thinking that I should get started.

7. What About Faith and Destiny?

Sometimes, I feel that it would be easier to leave everything in God’s hands. If something is meant for me, it will happen. If an opportunity is destined to come, it will eventually appear. If I’m meant to have a better future, perhaps everything will somehow fall into place.

I still believe in God’s will, in faith, and in the idea that not everything in life is within our control. But lately, I’ve started questioning something.

Am I genuinely putting my trust in God?

Or am I using uncertainty as a reason to avoid making difficult decisions?

I think there’s a difference between accepting what we cannot control and failing to act on what we can. I cannot control whether someone offers me an opportunity but I can work on developing the skills that would prepare me when an opportunity appears.

I cannot guarantee that a business I start will succeed but I can learn, test my ideas, and manage the risks before making a major commitment.

I cannot fully determine what my life will look like five years from now but I can still decide what I’m going to do today.

Maybe that’s the balance I need.

Take responsibility for what I can control, and learn to accept what I cannot.

8. I Don’t Want to Spend My Life Just Waiting for the Weekend

The truth is, failure isn’t what scares me the most. I’ve failed at things before. And although failure can be painful, I’ve learned that most setbacks can be dealt with.

What scares me more is imagining myself ten or fifteen years from now still following the same routine, still talking about the things I’ve always wanted to try, still telling myself that I’m too busy and eventually realising that the perfect time I was waiting for never actually arrived.

But at the same time, I don’t want to become so obsessed with building a better future that I forget to enjoy the life I already have. Because having dinner with my family isn’t wasted time. Playing guitar with my children isn’t unproductive. Resting during the weekend doesn’t mean I lack ambition.

Those moments are part of the life I want.

Maybe I’ve spent too much time believing that a successful life must always involve moving upwards. A higher position. A bigger salary. More achievements. But perhaps success, for me, is something different.

Maybe it’s having meaningful work, enough financial security, time with my family, and the freedom to pursue the things I love.Not necessarily becoming someone impressive in other people’s eyes.

Not necessarily becoming someone impressive in other people’s eyes but becoming someone who is genuinely satisfied with the way he lives. And if that’s the life I want, I still need to make intentional decisions to build it.

Because even a simple life requires planning.

9. Five Years From Now

If someone asks me again,

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I might still not have a specific answer.

I don’t know what position I’ll hold. I don’t know whether I’ll still be working in the same organisation, running a business, or doing something completely different. But at least I want to have a clearer sense of direction.

In five years, I want to be someone who has more choices in life. Someone who isn’t entirely dependent on a routine that has gradually formed around him. Someone who continues learning, even as he grows older. Someone who has the courage to explore what interests him without neglecting the people he loves. And most importantly, someone who no longer uses the words “too late” as an excuse to stop trying.

I don’t need to know the entire journey today. I just need to choose a direction, take the first step, and remain willing to change course as I learn more about myself.

Maybe five years from now, I won’t have achieved everything I dreamed of. Maybe I’ll discover a completely different dream along the way. And maybe some things won’t work out the way I planned.

But at least, when I look back at myself at 40, I want to be able to say:

“I’m glad I started back then.”

Instead of:

“I wish I had started five years ago.”

Because ultimately, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life simply waiting to see what happens to me. I want to take part in shaping what my life becomes. And perhaps that’s what I’ve been missing all along.

Not a perfect five-year plan.

Not an extraordinary ambition.

Not even the certainty that I’ll succeed.

Just the willingness to believe that my future is still worth building, even at 40.