SjayWanders

Coming home has a strange way of digging up things I thought I’d buried.

Now, in my late 20s, I carry a boatload of societal expectations — mostly invisible, until someone shines a spotlight right on them. Like the other day, when my high school teacher called to invite me to a reunion.

My first instinct? Lie.

I told her I’d be out of town.

The truth? I just didn’t want to show up.

After the usual small talk, she cut right to it:

“So, are you married now?”

I laughed. “Nope.”

She sounded surprised — even a little disappointed.

“All your batchmates are married. Some are even parents.”

I kept laughing, but there was a lump in my throat.

That phone call triggered a familiar rabbit hole:

• Am I behind?
• Why didn’t life pan out the way I imagined back when she was my teacher?
• Why not me?
• What did I do wrong?

For years, I wanted someone to choose me.

To wake up every day and say, “She’s mine.”

But the truth is, I wasn’t choosing myself — not fully.

I’ve told lies like “I’m not in town” just to avoid showing up as I am.

Because I don’t look like I did 10 years ago.

Because I thought the inches on my hips defined my worth.

Because I thought people would only see what I’m not — not who I am.

But today, sitting with all of this, I feel a surprising sense of peace.

I’m grateful life didn’t pan out the way I planned.

Even though I don’t yet understand the bigger picture, I’m learning to trust the unfolding.

I’m not late.

I’m right on time — just on a different clock.

If you’re not where you thought you’d be by now — you’re not alone.

Don’t let timelines written by someone else erase the beauty of where you are.

This is your becoming.