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I turned 30.

I know that’s not an achievement or anything spectacular. Everyone turns 30 at some point. People have been doing it for centuries.

The few days leading to the day were pretty normal, and I didn’t expect to feel any sort of way. I love my birthday and I’m usually pretty excited to celebrate and I will celebrate all month if I can. This year wasn’t any different. I was looking forward to my day, until my husband asked what I’d miss from my 20’s.


The question sank on my stomach and I began to cry a few joy tears from remembering happy moments, but mostly sad tears.

I actually panicked. I never panic.

“I haven’t done anything!”

I’ve lived in three countries, travel, speak two languages, and I married my best friend yet somehow it didn’t seem enough.

It didn’t seem enough because more often than not the world reminds me that if I don’t own a house, a car, have babies, and I’m thriving in my career, then I have not achieved much, and therefore I am not a real adult. A successful adult.

The world reminds me that there are 19-year olds on Youtube that are making millions. 23-year-old influencers that own beautiful houses and travel the world with their mobile alone. I have friends that live stable lives and have beautiful families.

And here I am, 30 and pretty unsure about what my life will look like in a few months.

30 and Full of unknowns. (That’s the title of the book I will write that will make me a successful adult just in case you were wondering. I’m copyrighting it ASAP.)

To my surprise I am not alone. I am not alone in believing the lies about success, and the lies that my life is less rich and beautiful because my name is not on a property.

I know this because like any other millennial I posted about it on my Instagram and my direct messages got flooded with people saying “Me too” “Thank you for writing this” “I feel the same way”

I’m pretty certain that life is more than having all the material things. I actually care very little about buying a house, yet somehow it made me feel sad.

Why is that? Why do we compare our lives and our timelines to other people’s? And not only compare but get anxious if our life doesn’t match?

I want to look at my life and feel grateful and proud for the things I have done. I want to look at my love and my marriage and not compare it to anyone else’s. Because honestly my love is pretty darn lovely, and it’s ours.

Most importantly I want to truly believe my identity is not any of these worldly successes and know that my identity is defined by who Jesus created me to be. To know that He created me with a purpose and with a specific plan in mind. And that means that my timeline is mine and mine only.

Comparison truly is the thief of joy, and I want to be joyful.

I want to encourage you (mostly encourage myself) to stop measuring your life by how many things you check off from imaginary lists, to learn to be present and enjoy the season you’re in. Whether that season is singleness, engagement, marriage, busy career lives, or still trying to figure out life. (I am still trying to figure it out)

I don’t want to miss out on what God is doing in my life right now because I’m busy thinking I need to be, and do more.

I am enough today, and so is my life.



“I want to be defined by how much I love. I want to be known by how much I listen, and how much I care. I want to make people feel seen, heard and valued. I don’t want to take anything and anyone for granted. So that’s my hope for the next decade and the one after. I want to love well.” -Excerpt from my Instagram post.


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