Why Some People Will Never Get What You're Building, and That's Okay

There's a quiet frustration that comes with trying to share your vision with the world and realising not everyone will understand it. Not everyone will see what you see, feel what you feel, or believe in the same possibilities. Some people just won't get what you're building, and that's okay.

I used to take it personally. When friends, family or colleagues looked confused or indifferent about my projects. When their polite smiles lingered a second too long, or their encouraging words felt a little too rehearsed. I wondered if I was failing at explaining myself. Maybe I wasn't convincing enough. Maybe my ideas weren't good enough. Maybe I should shelve them and focus on something safer, something more conventional.

But over time, I realised that this disconnect isn't about me, it's about perspective.

Every person carries a unique set of experiences, values, fears, and expectations. What excites me might feel trivial to someone else. What feels urgent to me might seem irrelevant, even reckless to others. It's not a rejection; it's a difference in worldwide. And that's one of the most important lessons any builder, creator, or dreamer can learn.

Some people crave stability. They want a clear path with predictable results. They find comfort in routine, in outcomes they can measure, in familiar milestones they an tick off, Others, like me, and maybe you, are wired to seek novelty. To chase ideas that make little sense on paper but feel impossible to ignore. To invest in things that aren't immediately profitable or universally applauded.

Neither of these ways of living is right or wrong. They're just different. And your vision will naturally resonate more with some than with others.

I've found that trying to convince everyone is one of the fastest ways to drain your energy. You'll spend hours explaining and defending, rehearsing pitches to people who've already made up their minds. And still, some will walk away shaking their heads, unmoved. The truth is, some people simply aren't meant to understand your dream. It wasn't built for them.

Instead, I've learned to focus on those who do get it, even if that means a smaller circle. Even if it's just one person at first. These are the people who become your tribe. The ones who'll celebrate your weird, half-baked ideas. The ones who'll help you pick up the pieces when things fall apart. Their belief fuels your persistence, even when the path feels lonely.

And it will feel lonely, sometimes. Building something meaningful always does. Especially in the early stages when it exists more in your head than in the world. It takes a strange kind of stubbornness to keep going when there’s no applause yet, no validation, no proof it’ll ever work. But the people who matter will find their way to your story. The ones who understand the why behind what you do, even if they don’t fully grasp the how just yet.

It also means accepting that some relationships will change. Maybe a friend who once cheered you on drifts away because your paths no longer align. Maybe family members don’t understand why you won’t settle for what they consider “good enough.” It hurts, but it’s a natural part of growth.

And that's okay, too.

You don’t have to carry the weight of others’ expectations. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for why you do what you do, or why it matters to you. Your vision belongs to you, not to the people who can’t see it. Not everyone is your audience. And honestly? That’s a gift. It frees you to focus on creating for the people who are.

Sometimes, not being understood is a sign you're doing something original. If everyone got it right away, it probably would'nt be new or bold. The discomfort of disconnect can be a marker of progress. It means you're stepping outside of what's expected, stretching into unfamiliar spaces.

So when you encounter doubt or dismissal, or polite disinterest, don't rush to justify. Hold steady. Keep building. Let the work speak for itself. Because over time, it will.

In those quiet, private moments, maybe late at night, maybe after a tiny unexpected win, you'll remember why you started. You'll realise it was never about convincing the world. It was about becoming the kind of person brave enough to build it anyway.