There’s a quiet frustration that comes with standing in front of closed doors. You knock. You wait. You wonder what you’re missing. You replay conversations in your head and second-guess choices you made years ago. You tell yourself that if this one door would just open, everything would finally make sense.
But what if the door isn’t stubborn? What if it’s specific.
The truth most of us don’t want to hear is this: some doors are designed to open only for a certain version of us. Not the edited version. Not the exhausted version. Not the one shaped by fear or people-pleasing or old survival habits. The real one. The one that has done the work. The one that has let go of who they needed to be just to get by.
It’s tempting to believe that success, peace, love, or purpose is about finding the right opportunity. But more often, it’s about becoming the right person to carry what’s on the other side. Some doors lead to responsibility you aren’t ready for yet. Others lead to freedom you don’t fully trust yourself to handle. A few lead to joy that would feel unfamiliar, even uncomfortable, if it arrived too soon.
So the door stays closed. Not as punishment. As protection.
Growth has a way of feeling invisible while it’s happening. You don’t wake up one morning and announce that you are now wiser, braver, calmer, more grounded. It happens quietly, in the choices no one applauds. In the boundaries you hold even when it costs you. In the conversations you finally have. In the ones you walk away from. In the moments you stop trying to prove and start trying to align.
And alignment changes everything.
When you stop contorting yourself to fit doors that were never meant for you, something shifts. You become steadier. Clearer. Less desperate. You stop knocking as loudly. You stop begging for access. You start walking differently. You carry yourself with a confidence that doesn’t need validation.
That’s usually when the right door opens.
Not because you forced it. Not because you waited long enough. But because you arrived as the version of yourself that belonged there all along.
It’s worth saying this gently: not every closed door is a mistake. Some are redirections. Some are invitations to grow before you go further. Some are simply saying, not yet, because the you that walks through this door needs to be stronger, softer, wiser, or more honest than you are today.
And that’s okay.
Becoming yourself is not a linear journey. You’ll outgrow identities you once clung to. You’ll release roles that once defined you. You’ll disappoint people who preferred the old version because it was easier to predict, easier to control, easier to keep small. Let that happen. Doors that require you to shrink were never worth opening.
The right doors recognize you. They respond to your presence, not your performance. They open when who you are finally matches what they require.
So if something hasn’t opened yet, don’t assume you’re failing. You might still be becoming.
Keep doing the inner work. Keep choosing honesty over approval. Keep showing up as yourself, even when it feels risky. Especially then.
One day you’ll realize the door didn’t change.
You did.
And when it opens, you won’t have to force your way in.
You’ll just walk through.
Kenrick Vaz 