From invincible to human: The journey of humility

There’s a kind of arrogance that comes with youth. Not the loud, boastful kind, but the quiet confidence that time is on your side. That you’ll always get better, always move forward, always win.

Ego comes from believing you have no limits. It makes you think you have all the time in the world. That every year will bring more success, more skill, more strength. That your body will always keep up, that your mind will always stay sharp.

But then, age steps in.

At first, it whispers. A missed shot that used to be effortless. A sprint that feels heavier. A problem that takes longer to solve. The pull-ups you once knocked out with ease now leave your arms sore. The lines of code that once flowed effortlessly now require a second glance. It’s subtle at first. But then, slowly, it becomes undeniable.

The truth sinks in—nothing lasts forever.

The cover drives that once flew off the middle of the bat now find edges. The endurance you took for granted starts to wane. The certainty you once had about your own mind, your own skills, your own body—it starts to crack. And when it does, you realiize something you never saw coming: time is undefeated.

Then comes loss.

Loss is blunt where age is patient. It doesn’t whisper; it crashes into you. A job you thought was secure, gone. A friendship you thought was unbreakable, broken. A person you loved, no longer there.

Loss teaches you that you can’t win forever. That even your strongest beliefs might not hold up against reality. That mistakes aren’t just things other people make—you make them too. You learn that no one, not even you, is immune to regret.

It humbles you.

You start to see others differently. You become more forgiving—not because you’re kinder, but because you finally understand. You understand what it’s like to fail. To fall short. To carry the weight of choices you wish you could undo. You recognize that behind every strong person is someone who has lost, who has aged, who has been humbled.

No one is born humble.

Humility isn’t something you choose—it’s something that happens to you. It’s what age carves into you, what loss forces upon you. And in that humility, in that acceptance of imperfection, you finally see life for what it really is—not a race to the top, but a journey that shapes you, one loss, one lesson, one year at a time.