This Is Not the Life I Planned (But Here We Are)

At some point, you realize the life you imagined quietly disappeared and something else took its place.

I never believed life unfolded neatly. I didn’t grow up with certainty or fairytales; I grew up hoping I’d find something steady enough to build around. Some of my closest friends, the ones I grew up with, had family relationships I deeply longed for. I didn’t have a dream wedding in mind or a picture-perfect family story I expected to live into. I just wanted a happy, content, genuine family life.

My expectations were simpler. In hindsight, they were smaller. I wanted to find love and build a family. I aimed to create something safe and lasting where it hadn’t always existed before.

It wasn’t until recently, listening to my daughter talk about her dreams for the future, that I realized how little space I’d ever given myself to imagine one. That realization deserves its own telling at a later date.

The Years That Changed Everything

Over the last fifteen years, there were moments that reshaped everything. Not all at once. Not cleanly. But undeniably significant and life-changing.

I lost people who were foundational to me. My two soulmates in this lifetime, neither of them romantic, contrary to the popular idea of what a “soulmate” is. They were the losses that rewire who you are and quietly change how you move through the world.

I raised a child on my own – I made decisions without a safety net and I carried responsibility without pause.

I learned how to function through depression. Not dramatically, not visibly, just consistently. Functioning felt like swimming with a weighted jacket. Every time I thought I could breathe, more weight appeared. Every time I thought I was ready to climb out of the pool, more weight showed up out of nowhere. Stopping was never an option. People needed me upright, I needed to keep my head above water at all times.

A few years later, I chose motherhood again, but deliberately this time. Not easily. Not traditionally. But with intention. A lot of intention, and somehow, a randomly approved credit card with almost exactly enough limit to make it happen.

Postpartum became a private battle I didn’t fully understand at the time. It altered how people saw me, and it took years to recognize what had actually happened, how deeply it shaped me.

I built something of my own, and eventually learned how to let it go.

And I lived under judgment that never softened, no matter how much I changed.

My children are central to my life, but their stories aren’t props. They come from different beginnings, carry different strengths, and deserve their own space to be told carefully. I’ll share my perspective on their origin stories and the roads we traveled to get here, thoughtfully and with care.

Choosing to Live, Not Just Survive

And yet, here I am. Still moving. Still building something quieter and truer than what I once imagined. Finally leaving behind what no longer fits. Finally choosing my own voice.

There was a time I believed my job was simply to endure for the sake of my children. Somewhere in the last couple of years, something shifted. I realized survival isn’t the same as living, and I chose differently, very much against some people’s wishes.

My definition of success has changed. I don’t measure it by exhaustion or appearances anymore. I only get one life in this body, and I don’t want to spend it wealthy and miserable. Don’t get it twisted, I’d love to have some wealth. But, I want to live, not simply survive.

I want enough. I want enough to live; enough to enjoy the days I’m in; enough to be present for the life unfolding in front of me.

This space isn’t for unloading everything in one breath. It’s for telling the truth slowly, with intention. Some stories need distance. Some need time. And, some deserve their own room entirely. What I’ve touched on here, the many chapters of my life, isn’t the end of these stories. It’s the beginning of telling them properly. This is just a small preview down each rabbit hole we’re about to go down together.

If you’ve ever looked at your life and thought, This isn’t what I planned or How the F*ck did I get here, congratulations – you’ve arrived, and you’re welcome here.

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