Learning to make peace with the life I have while grieving the one I always imagined.
When I was younger, I had a pretty clear picture of what I thought my life would look like by now.
I thought I'd be married. I'd have a house full of babies, maybe more than I could keep up with. I'd be a stay-at-home mom, spending my days taking care of my family, making our house feel like a home, creating little traditions, making holidays magical, and finding happiness in all the little things that come with raising a family.
I imagined a life where my biggest worries were what to make for dinner, what activities to plan for the weekend, and how to make the most out of the little moments with my kids.
I thought I'd be in great shape, too. I'd have it all together. I'd feel confident in my body, comfortable in my life, and settled into the woman I had always imagined becoming.
I had plans. I had dreams. I had this whole version of my future that, at the time, felt almost guaranteed.
And then life happened.
Not necessarily in one big, defining moment. Just in a hundred different ways that slowly made the life I imagined look less and less like the life I was actually living.
And sometimes, if I'm being honest, I really struggle with that.
The life I imagined versus the life I'm living
The reality is that I'm a single mom, trying to figure things out as I go.
I'm working, raising my child, trying to keep up with responsibilities, and doing my best to make everything work. I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and sometimes even that paycheck doesn't stretch far enough. My bank account is constantly in the negative, and there are days when the financial stress feels like one more thing I simply don't have the energy to carry.
I'm trying to figure out what needs to change, how to get ahead, how to build a better future, and how to create a life that feels a little less like I'm constantly trying to catch up.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I'm also supposed to be taking care of myself.
I'm supposed to be working out, eating better, keeping my house clean, being present, making memories, growing my career, being a good mom, having a social life, and somehow finding time to become the best version of myself.
Sometimes I look at everything I thought I would have figured out by now, and I feel so far behind.
Not because I don't appreciate what I have. Not because I don't love my child or the life we've created.
But because I really thought things would look different.
And I think there's a kind of sadness in that which we don't talk about enough.
Grieving a life that never happened
It's strange to grieve something you've never actually had.
There isn't a wedding to look back on. There isn't a house full of children running around. There isn't a version of my everyday life where I get to be home, fully present, creating the kind of childhood I always imagined for my family.
But I still find myself missing it.
I miss the idea of it. The picture I had in my head. The little details I imagined without even realizing how much they meant to me.
I think sometimes we only talk about grief when we've lost something we once had. But what about the dreams that never became reality? The relationships we thought would last? The milestones we thought we'd reach by a certain age? The versions of ourselves we were so sure we'd become?
What do you do with all those expectations when life takes you somewhere completely different?
I don't think we give ourselves enough permission to be sad about that.
Instead, we rush to remind ourselves that someone else has it worse. That we should be grateful. That everything happens for a reason. That we need to focus on the positive.
And while gratitude is important, I don't think it has to cancel out disappointment.
I can love being a mom and still wish I had more help.
I can be proud of how hard I work and still wish I didn't have to work so hard just to get by.
I can appreciate the little life I've built and still want something different for myself.
Two things can be true at the same time.
I'm tired of feeling like I'm starting over
I think one of the hardest parts is feeling like I'm constantly trying to rebuild.
Trying to get financially stable. Trying to create better habits. Trying to take care of my body. Trying to figure out my next steps. Trying to become more disciplined. Trying to make better decisions. Trying to be more intentional with my time.
It feels like there are a million things I need to fix, and sometimes I don't even know which one to start with.
And when you're already exhausted from just getting through the day, the idea of completely changing your life can feel overwhelming.
I see other women who seem to have things figured out. Women who have beautiful homes, happy marriages, thriving businesses, healthy routines, and the time and money to enjoy their lives.
And I know social media only shows a small piece of someone's reality. I know comparison isn't fair.
But sometimes it's hard not to wonder what it would feel like to have a little breathing room.
To not have to check your bank account before buying groceries.
To have someone to share the responsibilities with.
To wake up and feel excited about the day instead of immediately thinking about everything that needs to get done.
I don't think wanting those things makes me ungrateful. I think it makes me human.
Maybe I need to stop measuring my life against an old dream
I've been thinking about how much of my disappointment comes from comparing my current life to the one I thought I would have.
I'm measuring my success against a timeline I created years ago, before I knew what life would ask of me.
I'm looking at the woman I thought I'd be by now and judging the woman who is actually here.
And maybe that's not fair.
Maybe the version of me who dreamed about that life didn't know all the things I'd have to navigate to get here.
She didn't know what heartbreak would feel like. She didn't know what financial stress could do to a person. She didn't know how hard motherhood could be when you're carrying so much of it on your own.
She didn't know that some seasons would require survival instead of growth.
And I think she would be pretty proud to know that, despite everything, I kept going.
That I found ways to show up.
That I kept loving, dreaming, working, and trying.
Maybe I haven't built the life I imagined, but that doesn't mean I haven't built anything worth being proud of.
And maybe it's time I started giving myself credit for that.
I still want more, and I'm allowed to
I still want the beautiful life.
I still want financial stability. I want to feel good in my body. I want a home that feels peaceful. I want to travel, make memories, build traditions, and create a life that feels full instead of constantly feeling like I'm trying to hold everything together.
I want to feel excited about my future.
I want to stop feeling like I'm just surviving and start feeling like I'm actually living.
And I don't think there's anything wrong with admitting that.
I don't want to spend the rest of my life convincing myself that I shouldn't want more just because I should be grateful for what I have.
I can be thankful for today and still work toward a different tomorrow.
But maybe I also need to stop treating my current life like it's just a waiting room until I get to the life I actually want.
Because these days count, too.
My child won't remember whether my bank account was positive every single month. They won't remember whether I had the perfect body or whether my house looked like something out of a magazine.
They will remember the love. The laughter. The little traditions. The moments I made special, even when life wasn't particularly easy.
And maybe that is where I need to start.
Not with completely changing everything overnight, but with learning to create little pieces of the life I always wanted right here, in the life I have now.
To the woman who thought she'd be somewhere else by now
If you're reading this and you're also looking around at your life wondering how you ended up here, I want you to know something.
You're not the only one.
Maybe you thought you'd be married by now. Maybe you thought you'd have children, or more children. Maybe you thought you'd have a successful career, own a home, be financially comfortable, or feel more confident in your own skin.
Maybe you thought by this age you'd finally feel settled.
And instead, you're still figuring things out.
Maybe you're starting over. Maybe you're rebuilding. Maybe you're making decisions you never thought you'd have to make. Maybe you're quietly grieving a life that looks nothing like the one you once pictured.
I hope you give yourself permission to feel that.
You don't have to pretend you're happy with every part of your life to prove that you're grateful.
You don't have to have everything figured out to be proud of how far you've come.
And you certainly don't have to meet the expectations of a younger version of yourself to be worthy of the life you're building today.
I don't know exactly what my future looks like anymore.
And if I'm being honest, that scares me sometimes.
But I'm trying to remind myself that just because my life didn't follow the plan doesn't mean the story is over.
Maybe there's still a beautiful life ahead of me. Maybe it looks different than I imagined. Maybe it includes things I haven't even thought to dream about yet.
For now, I'm learning to stop apologizing for where I am, stop comparing my chapter to someone else's, and give myself a little grace while I figure it out.
I'm still becoming.
I'm still dreaming.
I'm still trying.
And maybe that's enough for this season.
Here's to the women who are learning that a different life doesn't have to mean a disappointing one. And to the women who are still figuring out what their beautiful looks like.
