I used to look at everyone else’s life like I was standing still on a dirt road, watching them speed by on a freeway. Shiny cars. Perfect smiles. Promotions, marriages, babies, vacations, success after success. And there I was… trudging along, clutching the pieces of my own broken map.
I felt like a failure. Like no matter how hard I tried, I was always behind. Too slow. Too late. Too… me.
I compared everything. The way other women dressed. The way they laughed effortlessly in big groups while I stood on the sidelines rehearsing my smile. The way they seemed to move seamlessly from milestone to milestone while I was still trying to catch my breath.
I hated myself for it.
Why can’t I be like them? Why can’t I keep up? Why does everything I do feel like it comes with extra weight strapped to my chest?
People told me, “Stay in your lane.”
But they didn’t see what my lane looked like. They didn’t see the potholes, the endless detours, the collapsed bridges. My lane wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t straight. Sometimes it wasn’t even paved.
But slowly, painfully, I started realizing something. Maybe I didn’t need the freeway. Maybe the slow dirt road with broken fences and wildflowers was mine. Maybe the silence in my lane held something the noise of traffic never could.
I started drinking my caramel lattes without guilt. I wandered Target aisles for no reason other than it calmed me. I laughed at myself when I paid for a year of gym membership and only used the sauna twice. I let myself be messy. Human. Imperfect.
And for the first time… I felt free.
I thought I’d finally made peace with my lane. That I was learning how to love being me. That maybe—just maybe—I could finally stop comparing myself to everyone else.
But then, last week, my phone lit up with a notification. A wedding picture. A baby announcement. Another promotion. Another shining, polished life speeding by.
And without warning, my chest caved in. I realized the truth I didn’t want to face:
I will never catch up.
And maybe the cruelest part? Even if I stay in my lane, even if I try to love it… deep down, I can’t stop wondering what it would feel like to be in theirs.
