The Life Manual I Wish Someone Had Handed Me (Earlier)

I was speaking with one of my younger cousins recently and she said something that made me pause.

Something like: “I’m so glad I have you. I’ve learned so much from you. I don’t know what I’d do without your advice.”

And it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard a version of that.

Because honestly? My whole life, people have come to me. Cousins. Sisters. Friends. People in my orbit.

Advice about friendships. Confidence. University/Degree. Work. Boyfriends. Big decisions. The messy stuff. The “I don’t know what I’m doing” stuff.

And sometimes I’ve wondered: why me?

The truth is, that I’ve always been the first. As in first child but also first grandchild. First kid on both sides of my family. First “project.” The one everyone adored. And I’m not going to pretend that didn’t shape me — it did. Being loved loudly gave me confidence. It gave me a sense of belonging. It gave me a head start in some ways.

But there’s another side to being first that doesn’t get romanticised.

When you’re the oldest — I mean oldest in the whole ecosystem - generationally speaking (4 siblings, 30+ cousins, both sides) — you don’t have a blueprint.

You’re the one who goes first into the mess. You’re the one who figures it out by trial and error. And then you become the person everyone comes to when they need clarity, because you already did the painful research.

That’s why I’m always thinking: I wish I knew this earlier.

But that conversation also made me think about the other side of the story:

I didn’t have that person.

I didn’t have an older cousin or an older sibling ahead of me to say: “Here’s what matters. Here’s what doesn’t. Here’s what I wish I knew.”

Even something as simple as university — I was the first person in my family (on both my mum and dad’s side) to go. And I remember being in that moment thinking: who do I even ask? What’s normal? What’s a mistake? What should I be paying attention to? I had no clue and no one to ask about.

So this week, I’m writing the “manual” I wish I’d been able to borrow earlier.

Not “the rules of life.” Not the full list. Just some of the cheat codes I learned late — and now I find myself wanting to pass on.

Also, now that I’m a mum, it hits differently — because I catch myself wanting to hand my son the cheat codes.

And then I stop and think: is he too young for this? Because part of me wants to protect him from the harshness of reality… and part of me doesn’t want him to grow up believing a fairytale and then get punched in the face by the world later.

This is just some of the things I wish someone had taught me earlier — the stuff you only learn after you’ve paid for it.

Cheat Codes

1) Boundaries aren’t rude. They’re the price of entry.

I wish someone had told me earlier that boundaries aren’t a personality flaw.

They’re not you being “difficult.” They’re not you being “cold.” They’re not you being “too much.”

They’re you deciding what you will and won’t tolerate — so your life doesn’t become a public space where anyone can dump their chaos on you.

And the older I get, the more I realise: boundaries aren’t just about keeping “bad people” out. They’re about protecting your time, your energy, your nervous system — from anyone who feels entitled to it.

2) If someone is toxic, you don’t negotiate.

This is one of my biggest non-negotiables now:

If you’re toxic, I’m out.

Not in a dramatic way. In a calm way. In a “I’m not available for this” way.

Because toxic people don’t just annoy you. They change you.

They make you doubt yourself. They normalise disrespect. They train your body to live on alert. They make you smaller — slowly — until you don’t even notice you’re shrinking.

And I wish someone had told me earlier that you don’t need a “big enough reason” to leave.

You don’t need to prove it in court. You don’t need permission. You don’t need a unanimous vote from people who aren’t living your life.

3) Being liked is optional. Being respected is not.

I wish someone had told me earlier: not everyone has to like you.

Because when you’re younger, you can waste years trying to be palatable. Trying to be easy. Trying to be “good.”

And it’s exhausting — because the goalpost moves depending on who you’re trying to please.

This is one of the things I’m already trying to teach my son (and yes, he’s six, and yes, I know it’s early):

You don’t need to be liked by everyone. You need to be yourself. You need to respect yourself. And you need to learn the difference between being kind… and being a doormat.

4) “Nice” can be a trap.

Nice can be lovely.

Nice can also be fear dressed up as politeness.

Nice can be the strategy you use when you don’t trust yourself to handle conflict, rejection, or someone being disappointed in you.

I wish someone had told me earlier that you can be kind and still have standards. Warm and still say no. Compassionate and still walk away.

5) Adulthood is realising how much of life is a construct.

This is the part that still messes with me sometimes.

When you’re younger, you think the world is solid.

You think the rules are real. You think the system makes sense. You think authority equals competence. You think if you do the “right things,” the “right things” will happen.

And then you grow up and realise… a lot of it is a construct.

A lot of it is performance. A lot of it is people repeating things because that’s what they were told too. A lot of it is “this is just how it is” — until you question it and realise it didn’t have to be like that.

That realisation can make you cynical if you’re not careful.

And this is where I struggle as a parent: I don’t want my son to grow up naïve. But I also don’t want to dump the full weight of “everything is a lie” onto a six-year-old.

So the lesson I wish I’d learned earlier is this:

Don’t confuse “official” with “true.” Don’t confuse “normal” with “healthy.” Don’t confuse “common” with “right.”

Learn to question. Learn to think. Learn to notice incentives. Learn to read between the lines.

6) Family isn’t automatically safe.

Family can be beautiful. Family can also be harmful. Family can be both.

Sharing DNA doesn’t automatically mean someone gets access to you. Being related doesn’t mean you owe someone your peace.

I wish someone had told me earlier that you’re allowed to have boundaries with family too — and you don’t need to justify them to anyone who benefits from you having none.

7) Freedom isn’t what they sell you. It’s what you build.

We’re sold this idea of freedom like it’s something you get handed if you behave correctly.

But real freedom is quieter than that.

Freedom is:

• being able to say no without fear

• having options

• not living your life for approval

• being able to stand in your values even when it costs you

• having people around you who don’t punish you for having boundaries

I wish someone had told me earlier that freedom isn’t granted. It’s built — choice by choice.

Again: this isn’t the full manual. It’s just some of it.

But it made me curious.

Have you always been the person people come to for advice? And if you could hand your younger self one “cheat code” — what would it be?

Love and truth,
Emma