Rebel Talk: 5 Years From Now

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. This thought of "is something missing". And speaking to people close to me, I can feel it coming from them too. There was a moment not long ago when something simple hit me harder than it had any business hitting me.

It wasn’t a big life event. No major turning point. Just a conversation—one of those quiet ones that sneaks up on you and sticks around longer than you expect. Someone said something that, at first, felt almost too straightforward to matter.

They said, “In five years, most of the people you see every day will be strangers again.”

I brushed it off at first… until I didn’t.

Because when you really sit with that, it starts to peel back layers you didn’t even realize were there.

I started looking around my life differently.

And right now, I’m in that stage—kids aren’t little anymore, but they’re not grown either. It’s that middle stretch. Practices, games, school, constant movement. Everyone around us is deep in it too. You look left and right and it feels like every household is running the same race, just in different lanes.

Schedules are tight. Time is limited. Energy is spent before the day even ends.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, something else quietly happens.

Your circle gets smaller.

My girlfriend and I laugh about it sometimes when we’re traveling.

We’ll meet people, have great conversations, and then realize… they’re ten, sometimes fifteen years older than us. Different stage. Different rhythm. Different life.

And it always leads to the same question, half joking, half real:

“What are people our age even doing?”
“Where are they?”
“Why does it feel like we don’t have more friends in this same season?”

And if I’m being honest, that thought can creep in deeper than you expect.

Because there’s this quiet pressure—like you’re supposed to have this full circle, this active social life, this group that reflects where you’re at.

But the reality is… this stage doesn’t always look like that.

People are in survival mode.

Building careers. Raising kids. Holding relationships together. Trying to stay in shape. Trying to stay sane.

And when you zoom out, you start to realize—it’s not that something’s wrong.

It’s that life is shifting.

Priorities are different. Time is tighter. And the version of connection we thought we’d always have… evolves.

And that’s where that original thought comes back around.

In five years, most of the people you see every day will be strangers again.

Not because anything went wrong.

But because life keeps moving.

That realization forced me to look inward.

How much time have I spent wondering what it’s supposed to look like?
How much energy goes into trying to match some expectation of what my circle should be?
How often have I questioned something that might actually be exactly how it’s supposed to be right now?

Because here’s the truth I’ve come to accept:

Not every season is meant to feel full of people.

Some seasons are meant to build you.

This phase right here—it’s not about having the biggest circle.

It’s about having the right focus.

Being present with your kids while they’re still in this window.
Building something meaningful—whether that’s your business, your home, your relationship.
Becoming the person you need to be for what’s ahead.

That doesn’t always come with a packed social calendar.

Sometimes it comes with quieter nights. Smaller circles. Fewer distractions.

And that’s not something to question.

That’s something to respect.

Because when you stop chasing what it’s “supposed” to look like, you start to see what actually matters.

The conversations that do happen mean more.
The people who are around—they’re there for a reason.
And the path you’re on becomes clearer because you’re not constantly comparing it to someone else’s.

And here’s the part that changed everything for me:

You’re not behind.
You’re not missing something.
You’re in the middle of building.

Five years from now, this stage will look completely different.

The kids will be older.
Schedules will shift.
New space will open up.

And the people who are meant to be in that next chapter will show up then.

Just like they always do.

I don't think I am "missing" anything.

Instead of asking, “Where is everyone?”

The better question becomes:

“Am I showing up fully for the life I’m in right now?”

Because this phase—this demanding, chaotic, in-between stretch—

It doesn’t last forever.

And at the end of it all, when things slow down and shift again, you’re not going to wish you had more random conversations or filled every gap with more people.

You’re going to look back at what you built.

The time you gave.
The focus you held.
The life you shaped—without forcing it to look like someone else’s.

Because five years from now…

a lot of people may be strangers.

But the life you built during this season?

That stays.

And that’s the part that matters.

Stay Relentless,

Ryan