Who is on your “YOU” team?
I hate to admit it, but I’m a very stubborn person. For the longest time, I equated stubbornness with closed-mindedness—people who refused to see beyond their own perspectives or understand how others lived their lives. So you can imagine my shock when my own sister called me stubborn.
I was aghast, dismayed… and ready to fight.
But after a semi-heated argument (emphasis on semi), I started to see her point. The truth is, I’m stubborn about my own life because I truly believe I know what’s best for me. And, well… alas, that’s not always the case.
My stubbornness was forged in the fire of past experiences—specifically, the trauma of letting others make decisions for me and bearing the consequences. Growing up, my parents dictated what was "best" for me in school, handpicking subjects that aligned with careers they believed would make me wildly successful (and, of course, financially secure). I went along with their plan, hating every moment but convincing myself that, as my parents—older, wiser, and supposedly all-knowing—they had to be right.
Spoiler alert: they weren’t.
I paid the price for studying subjects I had no passion for, endured their disappointment when I finally walked away, and then had to rebuild—both my life and my relationship with them. That experience cemented a promise to myself: never again. Never again would I follow a path that didn’t feel right. Never again would I compromise on what I wanted. I became unwavering—firm in my dos and don’ts—because, after everything, I refused to let anyone take that control away from me.
From major life choices—like where I wanted to live—to the tiniest details, like which way I parted my hair, I insisted on making decisions entirely on my own, with zero outside input. My past experiences had left me deeply distrustful of anyone else's ideas for my life, and, if I’m being honest, I was teetering dangerously close to becoming an askhole—the kind of person who stubbornly ignores advice, even from those with the best intentions. A literal nightmare.
But over time, I realized that shutting everyone out was only making things harder for me. Especially when it came to the people I should have trusted—my compass crew.
Image Credit: 20th Century Fox
We all need a compass crew—the people who challenge our assumptions, ask the hard questions, and force us to confront our blind spots. They create a safe space for us to unpack our thoughts, fears, and aspirations. They listen without judgment, offer fresh perspectives, and, most importantly, remind us of who we truly are. Because sometimes, we get so caught up in our problems that we lose sight of ourselves.
Their guidance isn’t always easy to hear. Sometimes, it’s a gentle nudge in the right direction. Other times, it’s a firm grip on your shoulder, pulling you back from the edge before you make a mistake you can’t undo. Either way, they’re the people who keep you grounded—whether you like it or not.
Assembling a good compass crew is no small feat. These are the people who need to be sharp, supportive, brutally honest, and aligned with your core values. So, in hindsight, it was completely ridiculous that I would seek them out, soundboard my plans, and then promptly ignore everything they had to say. I was the very definition of an askhole—convinced I was protecting myself when, in reality, I was just making my life harder.
Overcoming my trauma meant loosening my grip on control and learning to trust in my compass crew’s belief in me. I had to stop seeing their input as interference and start recognizing them for what they truly were—cheerleaders on the sidelines, celebrating my wins (big and small) and throwing me a metaphorical life raft whenever I hit rough waters. It hasn’t been an easy process, and honestly, I’m still working on finding the right balance. But I know it’s necessary, and it’s something I strive for every day.
Stubbornness isn’t inherently bad—it’s what gives us resilience, conviction, and the drive to carve our own path. But unchecked, it can also isolate us and make life harder than it needs to be. Learning to trust my compass crew hasn’t meant giving up control; it’s meant recognizing that I don’t have to navigate everything alone. And honestly? Life’s a lot easier when you’re willing to let a few good people help steer the way.
So, if you haven’t already, take a look at the people around you. Who’s in your compass crew? And more importantly—are you actually listening to them?
