F*ck the Timeline: You’re Not Behind, You’re Just Being Human

For a long time, I genuinely believed I was behind in life.

Everyone around me was getting married, having babies, buying homes, moving into some Pinterest-perfect version of adulthood—and there I was, standing still, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

I thought I’d missed the window. That maybe I wasn’t lovable enough. That maybe my shot had come and gone while I was busy trying to keep my head above water. The pressure to hurry up and catch up was crushing. I didn’t realize then that I wasn’t supposed to be catching up—I was supposed to be healing.

But healing isn’t cute. It’s not photogenic. It’s not something you post on Instagram with matching robes and champagne flutes. It’s messy, painful, lonely, and way too quiet. So instead of facing that silence, I filled it with noise.

I rushed into a marriage with someone I barely knew because I was operating from a place of scarcity. I thought, “This might be the best I’ll ever get.” Trauma had me by the throat. Years of unhealthy relationships had warped my sense of what was normal, what was healthy, what was safe. And when you’ve been through enough darkness, even a flicker of familiarity can look like love.

I eloped in Vegas three months in. I convinced myself that this was progress. That I had finally joined the “club.” But deep down, I knew I was abandoning myself.

The relationship turned toxic and abusive fast—but I stayed. Not because I didn’t know it was bad. I stayed because I thought leaving meant I failed. I thought if it ended, I would be the problem. So I took the blame. I isolated. I shrank. I let it break me down, piece by piece, day by day, until I could barely recognize myself anymore.

Looking back, I wish I had slammed the door shut the moment the red flags started waving. I wish I had run to my friends, leaned on the people who loved me, and said “I deserve better.” But I didn’t. I stayed too long. And that’s part of my story, too.

Here’s the thing: I needed that fall to finally stand up differently. I took the long, scenic route (and yeah, that’s sarcasm), but I survived it. And now that I’m on the other side, I can say this with my full chest:

The timelines are bullshit.

The pressure to be married by 30, to have kids by 35, to have your career perfectly mapped out by 25—it’s all made up. Social constructs. Archaic, tired, narrow ideas of what a “good life” is supposed to look like.

Some people never get married. Some never have kids—not because they can’t, but because they don’t want to. Some people fall in love for the first time in their 40s. Some people start over at 50. Some are still figuring it out at 60. None of it is wrong.

There is no single “right” way to do life. There is only your way.

So if you’re feeling like you’re behind, like everyone else has it figured out while you’re still trying to untangle the mess—you’re not alone. And you’re not behind. You’re just being human.

You’re healing. You’re learning. You’re becoming someone who doesn’t settle. And that takes time.

So screw the noise. Screw the timelines. Do life at your own pace, in your own way, on your own terms.

You're not behind. You're right on time.
Even if the route was messy as hell.