I'm 43 years old, and apparently, I'm still trying to figure out who the hell I am. You would think by this point in my life I'd have a pretty good understanding of myself. I've raised two daughters, worked more jobs than I care to count, navigated relationships, experienced heartbreak, made mistakes, learned some lessons, and survived things I never imagined I'd have to go through. And yet, here I am, still trying to figure out who I am and what I want my life to look like.

It's a strange feeling, honestly. To know you've changed, to recognize that you're not the same person you were five years ago, but still not quite know who you're becoming. I can see the progress I've made. I can recognize the things I'm doing differently. But I also see how much work I still have ahead of me. And sometimes I wonder if I'll ever reach a point where I feel completely comfortable just being myself.

Five years ago, I wasn't building a blog. I wasn't putting my personal experiences out into the world for complete strangers to read. I wasn't intentionally working on my self-worth or thinking this deeply about what I wanted my future to look like. I was doing what I've spent most of my adult life doing. Working, taking care of responsibilities, raising my girls, maintaining relationships, and making sure everything that needed to get done somehow got done. There wasn't a whole lot of time left over to sit around and ask myself who I was outside of all those responsibilities.

And maybe that's part of the problem. When you spend so many years being needed by everyone else, it's easy to forget that you're a person outside of those roles. You're somebody's mother, somebody's partner, somebody's employee, somebody's friend. You're the person who shows up, figures things out, and keeps moving. But somewhere in the middle of all that, you can lose track of the things that make you feel like you.

I'm not saying I regret those years. Not even close. Being a mother has been one of the most meaningful parts of my life, and I wouldn't trade that experience for anything. But my daughters are adults now. They're building their own lives, making their own decisions, and becoming their own people. And while I'll always be their mother, I'm learning that I have to build a life for myself, too.

I don't want my entire identity to be based on what I do for other people anymore. I want to know who I am when nobody needs anything from me. And that sounds wonderful in theory. In reality? I have absolutely no idea how to sit still long enough to find out.

One of the biggest things I'm struggling with right now is learning how to slow down. And when I say struggling, I mean my brain acts like relaxing is some sort of criminal offense. I can have a completely packed day. I can work, run errands, clean the house, take care of responsibilities, work on my blog, and still somehow convince myself that I should be doing more. If I find myself with thirty minutes of free time, instead of enjoying those thirty minutes, I immediately start looking for something to fill them with.

Maybe I could work on another article. Maybe I should check my social media. Maybe there's something around the house that needs cleaned. Maybe I could get ahead on tomorrow's responsibilities. There's always something. And if there isn't something, I'll find something.

It's exhausting. Not just physically, but mentally. Because even when I'm sitting down, my brain isn't resting. I'm thinking about what I should be doing, what I haven't done, what I need to do tomorrow, and whether I'm being productive enough.

And the frustrating part is that I'm completely aware of it. I know I do this. I recognize the pattern. I can tell myself that it's okay to take a break, that I've accomplished enough, that I deserve some time to relax. But knowing something and actually being able to do it are two very different things.

I genuinely want to learn how to enjoy doing nothing. I want to be able to sit outside, feel the sunshine, listen to the birds, and appreciate the moment without mentally calculating how much time I'm wasting. I want to spend time with my daughters without thinking about the next thing on my to-do list. I want to go somewhere beautiful and actually be there mentally, instead of being physically present while my brain is running seventeen different errands.

I want to stop treating every free minute like an opportunity to accomplish something. Because somewhere along the way, I started associating being productive with being valuable. And that's a difficult mindset to break when you've spent most of your life working and taking care of everything.

The irony is that I don't even enjoy living this way. I'm tired. I'm mentally exhausted. I desperately want peace, but I don't seem to know how to allow myself to experience it. And no, telling myself to just relax doesn't work. If it were that simple, I would've figured it out a long time ago.

Here's where things get a little complicated. Because while I'm trying to learn how to slow down, I'm also incredibly motivated to build something meaningful for myself. I want to be successful. I want financial independence. I want to be able to support myself without depending on somebody else, and I don't want to spend the rest of my working life answering to someone else's schedule.

I've spent enough years working for other people. I've worked multiple jobs, juggled responsibilities, and done what needed to be done to make ends meet. And while I'm grateful for the opportunities I've had, I want something different for my future. I want to work for myself. I want to build something that belongs to me, something I can be proud of, something that allows me the freedom to create my own schedule and live life on my own terms.

That's a huge part of why I started The Messy Middle. Five years ago, I never would've imagined myself building a blog, sharing my personal experiences, and hoping to turn those experiences into something that could eventually support me financially. But here I am. Learning about websites, writing articles, figuring out social media, trying to understand how to grow an audience, and navigating an entirely different world than the one I've spent most of my working life in.

And I genuinely enjoy it. I enjoy creating. I enjoy writing. I enjoy taking the things I've experienced, including some of the most difficult parts of my life, and turning them into something meaningful. But there's something even more important to me than making money from it.

I want people to feel heard. I want people to feel seen. And I want people to know that they matter.

I want someone who's struggling with their mental health to read an article and realize they're not the only person who feels that way. I want a mother who's struggling with the transition into having adult children to recognize herself in my words. I want someone who's questioning a relationship, struggling with self-worth, or trying to start over to understand that they're not alone.

I don't have all the answers. Hell, half the time I'm still trying to figure out the questions. But I have experiences. I have stories. I have a perspective that's been shaped by everything I've lived through. And if sharing those experiences helps even one person feel a little less alone, that means something to me.

Of course, I'd love for The Messy Middle to become financially successful. I'm not going to pretend money doesn't matter. Financial security matters, especially when you're trying to build an independent future. But I don't want success to come at the expense of the very peace I'm working so hard to find. I don't want to escape a life of constantly working just to create another life where I'm constantly working. And that's something I'm going to have to learn how to balance.

Another thing I've been working on is my confidence. Or, more accurately, trying to find some. I wouldn't describe myself as a particularly confident person. I can be social. I can talk to people. I can put myself in situations that might make other people uncomfortable. But being outgoing and being confident aren't necessarily the same thing. I can appear perfectly comfortable on the outside while questioning myself on the inside.

I second-guess things. I wonder whether I'm doing enough, whether I'm making the right decisions, whether I'm capable of accomplishing the things I want. Sometimes I compare where I am in life to where I thought I'd be by now. And at 43, that can be a little frustrating.

There's this expectation that by a certain age, you're supposed to have everything figured out. You're supposed to know who you are, what you want, and where you're going. You're supposed to be established, secure, and comfortable in your own skin. Well, apparently, I missed that memo.

I'm still figuring out what makes me happy. I'm still learning how to set boundaries. I'm still trying to understand why I respond to certain situations the way I do. I'm still learning that my worth isn't determined by how much I accomplish, how useful I am to other people, or whether someone chooses to love me.

And I don't always get it right. There are days when I feel proud of myself. Days when I look at what I'm building and think, I'm actually doing this. I'm creating something. I'm making decisions for myself. I'm working toward a future that I genuinely want. And then there are days when I question everything.

But maybe building self-worth isn't about suddenly becoming this incredibly confident woman who never doubts herself. Maybe it's about learning to believe in yourself even when those doubts show up. Maybe it's about recognizing that you're allowed to be proud of your progress without pretending you've reached the finish line. Because I haven't reached it. Not even close.

When I think about the woman I'm trying to become, I don't necessarily picture someone with a huge house, an expensive car, or some glamorous lifestyle. Don't get me wrong, financial stability would be fantastic. I'd love to be able to pay my bills without worrying, travel when I want to, and have the freedom to make decisions without constantly considering how much everything costs. But when I really think about what I want, it's not necessarily about the things I own. It's about how I feel.

I want peace. I want freedom. I want to feel safe. I want to feel loved. I want to feel confident in myself and the decisions I'm making. I want to wake up in the morning and genuinely love my life.

Not because every day is perfect or because nothing ever goes wrong. I'm realistic enough to know that life doesn't work that way. There will always be responsibilities, unexpected problems, difficult days, and situations that are completely outside of my control. But I don't want my entire existence to feel like one long list of things I need to survive or accomplish.

I want to enjoy the little moments. I want to go for a walk in the woods and actually appreciate everything around me. I want to laugh more. I want to travel, explore new places, make memories with my daughters, and experience things I spent years putting off. I want to be able to sit on the couch without feeling guilty.

Imagine that. Forty-three years old, and one of my biggest life goals is learning how to sit on my own damn couch without feeling like a failure. It's funny when I say it that way, but it's also a little sad.

Because I know there's so much more to life than being productive. I know that memories aren't made by checking things off a to-do list. I know that constantly pushing myself isn't necessarily making me happier. But there's still a part of my mind that fights against slowing down. And I don't know exactly how to change that yet.

I wish I did. I wish I could tell you that I've discovered some incredible method for finding inner peace, that I've mastered mindfulness, and that I now spend my mornings peacefully enjoying the sunrise without a single stressful thought. But that would be complete bullshit.

I'm still the woman who finds something to do when she has thirty minutes of free time. I'm still the woman whose brain is planning tomorrow before today is even finished. I'm still the woman who struggles to recognize that resting doesn't mean she's being lazy. The difference is that I'm starting to understand that I don't want to keep living this way. And maybe recognizing that is where change begins.

One of the things I'm trying to understand is that wanting a better life doesn't mean I have to spend every waking moment chasing it. I can be ambitious and still deserve rest. I can work toward financial independence and still enjoy an afternoon doing absolutely nothing. I can want The Messy Middle to grow without turning every quiet moment into another opportunity to work on it. At least, that's what I'm trying to teach myself.

Because there's a difference between building a life you love and being so consumed with building it that you forget to actually live it. And I think I've spent a lot of years doing the second one.

I've always been good at handling responsibilities. I've always found a way to keep moving, even when things were difficult. I've worked through exhaustion, pushed through stressful situations, and figured things out because I felt like I didn't have another option. Those experiences have made me resourceful. They've taught me how to survive difficult circumstances and keep going when things aren't easy.

But I don't want survival to be the only thing I'm good at. I want to learn how to live.

I want to learn how to enjoy the things I've worked so hard for. I want to learn that slowing down doesn't mean I'm falling behind. I want to understand that my value as a person doesn't disappear the moment I stop being productive. And I want to be able to recognize success in more than one way.

Success might eventually mean earning a living from my blog. It might mean having my own home, creating my own schedule, and being financially independent. But success might also mean spending an entire afternoon with my daughters without checking my phone to see what I should be doing next. It might mean taking a walk simply because I enjoy being outside, not because I need to accomplish a certain number of miles. It might mean having a quiet evening and actually feeling comfortable with the quiet. And right now, those things feel just as important as anything else I'm working toward.

Sometimes I wonder what the woman I was five years ago would think if she could see me today. Would she be surprised that I'm building a blog? That I'm sharing personal experiences with strangers? That I'm trying to create a completely different future for myself? Probably. Would she be proud of me? I'd like to think so.

Because even though I still have so much to figure out, I'm doing things I wasn't doing back then. I'm questioning patterns I've lived with for years. I'm becoming more aware of what I need, what I want, and what I no longer want to accept. I'm learning to be more independent. I'm trying to build my confidence. I'm working on my self-worth, even when it feels uncomfortable.

And I'm beginning to realize that I don't necessarily have to become an entirely different person to create a better life. Maybe I just need to give myself permission to become more of who I actually am.

The woman who loves being outside. The woman who enjoys meaningful conversations. The woman who wants to explore the world, laugh at inappropriate things, spend time with the people she loves, and create something that makes a difference. The woman who wants to be successful, but also wants to be peaceful.

The woman who wants to feel loved without losing herself. Who wants independence without isolation. Who wants a full life without feeling like every single minute has to be filled.

I don't know exactly what that version of me looks like yet. And I'm trying to become okay with that. Because maybe figuring yourself out isn't something that happens once. Maybe it's something that continues as you grow, experience new things, make mistakes, and discover what matters to you.

Maybe the woman I am today isn't supposed to be the final version of me. Maybe she's just another chapter. And for once, I'd like to stop rushing to get to the next one.

I want to enjoy the chapter I'm in, even if it's messy, uncertain, and occasionally a complete shitshow. I want to appreciate the progress I've made without constantly criticizing myself for how far I still have to go. I want to build a future I'm excited about while remembering that my life is happening right now, not just someday when everything finally falls into place.

Because that's the part I keep coming back to. I don't want to spend the next five years working toward happiness only to realize I was too busy to experience any of it along the way.

I want to be successful. I want to make a difference. I want to help people feel seen, heard, and understood. I want to build something meaningful and create a life where I can support myself on my own terms. But I also want to breathe.

I want to feel safe in my own life. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin. I want to wake up excited about the day ahead instead of immediately thinking about everything I need to accomplish.

And maybe someday I'll become the woman who knows how to do all of those things. The woman who can sit outside for thirty minutes without reaching for her phone. The woman who can enjoy a quiet afternoon without feeling guilty. The woman who doesn't constantly question whether she's doing enough. The woman who genuinely loves the life she's living.

I'm not her yet. But I'm working toward her. And maybe, just maybe, I can learn to enjoy being me along the way.

Because I'm not who I was five years ago. And I don't know exactly who I'll be five years from now. But for the first time in a long time, I'm intentionally trying to become someone whose life doesn't just look successful from the outside. I want it to feel good on the inside, too.

And I think that's a future worth working toward.

~Tj🩷