The First Sign You’re Getting Stronger: Disenchantment

Most people think getting stronger means learning more skills, reading more books, or making more money. I think that’s all secondary. The real signal that you’re leveling up as a person is something most people never talk about: disenchantment. When you start to see through the bullshit that everyone else is still worshipping, that’s when you’re actually growing.

Let me be very biased about this. I’ve watched countless people waste years of their lives chasing things they’ve been programmed to revere. The big company brand on their resume. The celebrity guru’s course. The MBA from a prestigious school. They treat these things like magic spells that will suddenly transform them into a different person. And they’re always disappointed.

Here’s the thing about disenchantment: it’s not cynicism. Cynics are just bitter. People who have truly disenchanted are clear-eyed. They’ve stopped projecting superpowers onto institutions, authorities, and systems that are fundamentally just made up of normal human beings with the same flaws and limitations as everyone else.

I remember the first time I really saw this in myself. There was a time when I thought that if I could just get into the right company, or get mentored by the right person, everything would click. Then I got into those rooms. And you know what I found? The emperor had no clothes. The famous entrepreneur making bold predictions on stage was just as uncertain about the future as I was. The “expert” with a million followers was recycling the same basic frameworks everyone else uses. The only difference was they had mastered the game of signaling.

And that’s the dirty secret nobody tells you: most of what you admire in others is just a mask they’ve gotten really good at keeping on. The companies you idolize are full of incompetent managers and toxic politics. The thought leaders you follow are often just better at packaging common sense. The “overnight success” you envy took ten years of grinding nobody filmed.

Disenchantment is painful at first. You lose the comfort of having heroes. You lose the shortcut of believing that if you just copy what the successful people do, you’ll get their results. Suddenly you realize that nobody has the map, and you’re going to have to draw your own.

But this is exactly the turning point. Because once you stop projecting your power onto others, you have no choice but to start building your own. You stop waiting for someone to save you, to give you the secret, to let you into the club. You look at the successful people around you and instead of putting them on a pedestal, you ask yourself: what specifically did they do that I could also do? What advantage did they have? What luck? And where did they just get lucky?

A really common example: people obsess over which car to buy, which house, which brand of clothes. They think these things carry status. But after you’ve disenchanted, you see status games for what they are—distractions that drain your money and attention. Your money is scarce, especially when you’re still trying to get ahead. Every dollar you spend on signaling is a dollar you’re not spending on investing in your own capabilities, or saving for real freedom.

I’m very biased here, but I’d say if you have less than 200,000 dollars saved up, you probably shouldn’t be buying a car that costs more than 20,000. And if you have less than 100,000, don’t buy a car at all. The less money you have, the harder you worked for it, and the more stupid it is to waste it on something that depreciates while you’re still trying to build.

The same logic applies to people. Once you’ve disenchanted, you stop treating any relationship as a source of salvation. You don’t marry someone because they’ll “complete” you. You don’t cling to a boss because they’ll “take care” of you. You see every relationship as a partnership where value must flow both ways. And if it doesn’t, you leave—without drama, without bitterness, just with clarity.

Disenchantment makes you colder in some ways, but smarter in all ways. You stop being a mark for every sales pitch, every guru, every “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” You learn to taste everything with your own tongue instead of relying on the menu descriptions.

So if you’re feeling a bit more alone in your thinking these days, if you’re starting to notice that the people around you are still caught up in stories you no longer believe, that’s not a bad sign. That’s the pain of growth. That’s the first sign you’re getting stronger.

Keep going. The disenchantment phase doesn’t last forever. What comes next is something much better: the ability to build your own reality, on your own terms, without needing anyone else’s permission or approval.