You Don’t Need a Perfect Five-Year Plan

“Is it okay to not have a five-year plan if everyone else seems to?”

You Need Room to Breathe
If you’re a woman reading this, I want to start by saying this out loud—because it doesn’t get said enough:
It is okay if you don’t have your life mapped out in five-year increments.
Really.
I know the pressure. I’ve lived it. I’ve watched brilliant women carry the weight of expectation as if uncertainty were a personal failure. It’s not. It’s part of becoming.
So let me talk to you, coach-to-coach, about what I’ve learned navigating degree changes, career pivots, and the winding path that led me here.

1. A Five-Year Plan Is a Guide, Not a Contract
I once wrote that life is like a good jam session.
Not a perfectly rehearsed concert—but a space where you listen, respond, adjust, and create something new in real time.
During my doctorate, I learned this lesson the hard way.
I submitted a 158-page prospectus draft—confident, prepared, proud. Then I was told to cut 30 pages and completely rethink my theoretical framework. Not long after, the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and the entire research design I had carefully planned—centered on an after-school program—became impossible.
I had a choice: cling tightly to the plan I thought I needed, or improvise.
I chose flexibility. I adjusted the tempo. I finished.
If I had treated my five-year plan like a contract instead of a guide, I would have quit. Your ability to adapt—to respond instead of freeze—is more valuable than your ability to predict the future.

2. Focus on the Ends, Not the Roots
Big plans can feel paralyzing because we try to start at the destination.
I often compare long-term goals—careers, dissertations, life plans—to combing through hair.
You don’t start at the roots.
You start at the ends.
If you try to force your way through the knots without untangling what’s right in front of you, you create more damage than progress.
So instead of asking, “Where will I be in five years?”
Ask, “What is the next small step I can take right now?”
One class.
One application.
One skill.
As Dominique shared in our lessons, it’s about taking one step at a time—not carrying the entire future on your shoulders all at once.

3. Your Plan Might Be a Detour—and That Can Be a Gift
At 17, I had a plan.
I was going to be a medical doctor. I had the grades, the discipline, the ambition. Then one day, walking past a medical school lab, I saw a cadaver—and something in my spirit said, No.
I didn’t overthink it. I ran.
If I had forced myself to stick to that plan just because it looked good on paper, I would have missed the path that led me to teaching, policy, and eventually instructional technology.
Sometimes, not having a plan allows you to notice the breadcrumbs—those quiet patterns that keep showing up. Like how technology followed me everywhere, even when I wasn’t looking for it.
Pay attention to what keeps finding you.

4. You’re Building a Toolkit, Not Just Following a Map
Instead of obsessing over a specific job title five years from now, I want you to shift your focus.
You’re not just following a map.
You’re building a toolkit.
I truly believe this: no education is wasted.
I used statistics courses from my Master’s in Public Policy to meet requirements for my PhD in Instructional Technology. I used my background in biology to understand systems and processes in tech. Nothing was lost. Everything transferred.
Charlene shared something similar in our lessons—she didn’t even know how to use a computer in her first job. She learned, implemented, and eventually built a business.
What you’re doing right now—learning digital literacies, practicing leadership, figuring out how you think—those are tools. Tools travel well, even when destinations change.

5. Slow and Steady Is Still Winning
​Let me leave you with this, because comparison is loud right now.
It took me seven years to complete my PhD while working full-time.
Seven.
I wasn’t behind. I was living my life and moving forward at a pace that was sustainable for me.
If it feels like everyone else has a plan, remember this: plans change. Careers evolve. People pivot quietly.
Progress doesn’t always look fast. Sometimes it looks like exploration, rest, or recalibration.
As long as you’re moving forward—learning, reflecting, adjusting—you are not behind.
You are becoming.