There was a time I thought purpose had to be something huge – life-changing, world-shifting, cover story worthy, kinda of thing. I’d love to say I have no idea why I thought that, but honestly, that belief probably started with my overachiever tendencies and an ex who once told me I needed to “find my purpose,” like it was some homework assignment I accidentally gave to Harley to play fetch with instead of turning in it.
So of course I got it in my head that fulfillment was something you reached only after achieving enough, proving enough, being the absolute best at something – something like the AA gymnastics finals at the Olympic Games. I started believing fulfillment was something you earned. A medal waiting at the finish line. If you worked hard enough, impressed enough, you became enough.
I used to measure my life by checking boxes off my list— making the national team at 12 years old, which quickly got overshadowed by becoming a world champion at 15, to then winning more titles and (gold) medals, to landing another cover, signing another deal and so forth – all however, backed by praise from others.
And while things were a little different in my teenage years than say now – social media didn’t exists (thank god) yet somehow the internal feeling was vastly similar: When I got those praises, sure, there was a rush. But it faded. Fast.
Looking back, what stuck with me weren’t always the achievements – sure it was thrilling to come home with a win and a gold medal, don’t get me wrong… But the moments in between that weren’t broadcasted live to 29,708,000 viewers in the U.S. alone that one August night over a decade ago. It was the quiet, sleepy 7 a.m. drives to practice with my dad; the three‑mile runs in 100‑degree Texas heat before a seven‑hour training day; the brainstorm sessions where we sketched a bar routine I could (quickly) master in under a year, just to give myself a chance.
One day he handed me a ripped piece of white paper and said, “Look.” All I saw were letters – D, C, E, E, E, D, and so on. “Mathematically, there’s no scenario in which you don’t win,” he told me, “as long as you simply hit four solid routines.” That conversation led to countless late‑night visualization sessions of that little piece of paper that turned out to be my olympic bar routine – day after day, week after week, month after month – until I eventually mastered the routine that led me to Olympic gold.
And while the fulfillment in that moment was loud and shiny, I quickly realized that’s not always the case. It doesn’t always come with applause or a medal. It’s subtle. It shows up when your values and your actions line up. It lives in the work that feels real, in the people who truly see (and believe in) you, and in how you treat yourself when no one’s watching.
Purpose, I’ve realized, isn’t a job title. It’s not a four-year plan – like every other chapter of my life has always been. It’s more like a compass than a destination. It points you in a direction that feels true – even if the path isn’t straight, even if it changes, and even if in moments you fully see the light at end of the tunnel. And sometimes, it’s less about finding your purpose and more about noticing it. It’s already there – in the things that light you up, in what you return to when you’re not being told what to chase.
Here are a few things I’ve learned – sometimes the hard way:
1. Fulfillment isn’t something you earn.
You don’t need to check all the boxes before you’re allowed to feel good about your life. You don’t need to arrive anywhere to feel whole. If you keep waiting for permission to be content, you’ll miss the moments that actually matter.
2. Purpose doesn’t always feel big.
Sometimes it’s just doing something that feels right – even if no one sees it. Purpose isn’t always dramatic; sometimes, it’s quiet and consistent.
3. What drains you isn’t worth glorifying.
If the work, the relationship, the routine leaves you feeling empty – it’s not “building character,” it’s stealing your precious time. Busyness is not the same as meaning. I wish I had learned that difference years ago.
4. Fun and joy are not distractions.
I also used to think having “fun” was something you fit in after the serious stuff. Now I know: joy is essential. If you’re not laughing, not feeling alive, not enjoying any of it – then what’s the point?
5. Your path won’t look like anyone else’s.
And it shouldn’t. Yet it’s too easy not to compare yours to anyone and everyone’s you see on any social platform. But reminder: don’t measure your purpose with someone else’s ruler. What fulfills you might not make sense to others. That doesn’t make it wrong… it makes it yours.
I certainly don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring it out, like everyone else. But here’s what I do know: Chasing someone else’s idea of success will never lead to real peace. Fulfillment isn’t out there, waiting at the end of some perfect plan. It’s already woven into the things that make you feel alive. Into the people who get you – those you know will be in your life forever. Into the work that feels real.
And then there are the things I keep reminding myself each day: to stop rushing, to stop proving, and to stop waiting for some future version of life to feel like it’s mine.
Because maybe purpose isn’t about finding the perfect path… maybe it’s just about walking with intention, and remembering to enjoy the view… because if you actually stop to take a look at it, it’s pretty freaking beautiful.
xx NL
