29

Twenty-nine.

29

I woke up this morning thinking I’d have some profound revelation about where I am in life. Some clear vision of the woman I’m supposed to be at this age. Instead, I’m sitting here with my coffee, looking at Sophie’s art on the fridge and Theo’s toys scattered across the living room, and all I can think is: I have no idea what I’m doing.

I thought by 29 I’d have it all figured out. The career trajectory, the perfect balance between being a wife and mother and… me. Whatever that means. Instead, I’m learning to be okay with not knowing. With taking it one day, one shift, one tantrum (theirs and mine) at a time.

Maybe that’s enough. Maybe being here, being present, being willing to keep going even when you don’t have the map - maybe that’s what growing up actually looks like. Twenty-nine and still figuring it out. I’m making peace with that.