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By Tiharihondijo Dickens
As we grow up, we unconsciously begin to build an identity shaped by our upbringing—our physical features, education, family background, and the societal expectations around us. From this, we form a mental image of who we think we are, and inevitably, we begin to set personal standards based on that identity.
While this process is natural, it’s also where many of our internal struggles begin—especially when life does not unfold in line with the expectations we’ve set for ourselves.
Let me give you an example. A young girl grows up in a community where beauty is defined by skin tone, body shape, or facial features. She’s told—explicitly or subtly—that if she is light-skinned, curvy, and has a "well-shaped face," then she is destined to marry a rich, handsome man. Over time, she internalizes this narrative. She looks in the mirror and thinks, “This is who I am, and this is what I deserve.”
Months ago, I met such a girl on a Tausi bus heading to Mbarara. Young and beautiful, she had a broken, outdated smartphone. We struck up a conversation, and she mentioned how her friends often tell her she’s beautiful enough to "get" any phone or lifestyle she wants. I told her they weren’t entirely wrong. She admitted she even felt shy standing in the bus because she knew people would stare at her body.
She had just completed Senior Four and was heading to a vocational institute—not because of a lack of ambition, but because her father couldn’t afford more. Yet, society had already begun to plant the idea in her mind that with her beauty, she need not work hard—her looks could open doors.
That’s how it starts: society helps us build standards that may not be rooted in reality or personal ambition, but in image, comparison, and perceived entitlement.
Now, sometimes things work out. That girl might actually meet a wealthy, young, charming man who matches her imagined future. But what if he never shows up? What happens when she keeps meeting “average” or struggling men? In her mind, they don’t measure up to the standard she’s set. So, she waits. And waits.
Meanwhile, time keeps moving. And then, one day, she sees her peers—some of whom she once looked down on—marrying those exact types of men she dreamed of. It’s not necessarily jealousy she feels, but confusion, frustration, and self-doubt. “Why not me?” 
This same emotional pattern appears in other areas—education, career, even lifestyle.
You may have studied hard, earned good qualifications, and envisioned a successful life. You told yourself that with your intelligence and background, you'd drive a certain kind of car, marry a certain type of person, live in a particular neighborhood, or earn a specific income. But life doesn’t always play out that way.
You might get a job, but it barely pays. You try to upgrade—go back to school, start a side hustle—but things still stall. The lifestyle you dreamed of is out of reach. You can’t afford the kind of home you imagined, so you settle for modest rentals. The type of romantic partner you believed you'd attract doesn't materialize—because your finances, not your looks or heart, often shape those outcomes.
Week after week, you see former classmates or friends you believed were less capable than you, living the life you thought you deserved. They drive the cars, drink the whisky, and post the holidays. Meanwhile, you’re paying off debts, living paycheck to paycheck, and declining invites you can’t afford.
Then comes the emotional toll—confusion, sadness, anxiety, sometimes depression. “What did I do wrong?” you wonder. But here’s the truth: much of your suffering stems not from failure, but from comparison. From the pressure of living up to a mental image that may never have been grounded in reality. From societal expectations that were never yours to carry. From believing that your value is determined by how you measure up against others.
It’s okay to have standards. It’s okay to dream. But you must also learn to make peace with your journey—whatever it looks like. Not every beautiful girl will marry rich. Not every first-class student will live a first-class life. And not every late bloomer is a failure.
You’re not behind. You’re not cursed. You’re just on a different path.
So, take a breath. Loosen the grip of expectations. And begin to rebuild your identity not based on who you thought you should be, but who you actually are—and who you're still becoming.
Torch Media Africa
