Messy Minded Momma

When I was younger and imagined what life would look like in my late 30s, I assumed I would have everything figured out. I pictured myself settled comfortably into a career, married with children, taking summer vacations, volunteering in the community, contributing to retirement savings, and living in a house with a big backyard.

Turns out, younger me didn’t realize she was neurodivergent. She didn’t know that some milestones would take longer, require more effort, and arrive on a different timeline than they seemed to for everyone else.

From as early as I can remember, I knew I wanted to be a wife and a mother.

As a teenager and throughout my twenties, I dated with intention. I never told someone “I love you” unless I genuinely saw a future with them. I had baby names picked out, wedding venues bookmarked, and floor plans saved long before any of those things were remotely necessary.

My search for “my person” became a hyper-focus. Unfortunately, friendships often ended up on the back burner while I chased the life I thought I was supposed to have.

School was never my strength. Part of that was undiagnosed ADHD and a lack of support. The other part was that I was completely boy-crazy. While my classmates were studying, I was staying up late talking on the phone, sending messages on MSN, and thinking far more about relationships than report cards.

High school was scary for me. I didn’t have the perfect teen movie experience. The large class sizes and crowded hallways swallowed me whole. I disappeared into the background rather than standing out and rarely socialized once the final bell rang.

My poor grades and lack of confidence kept me from pursuing post-secondary education. Instead, I threw myself into working part-time as a cashier at the local grocery store so I could have spending money for dates, concerts, and nights out with boyfriends.

Then something strange happened. Life kept moving.

I looked around and watched people get engaged, buy homes, establish careers, and start families. Meanwhile, I felt stuck.

By my late twenties, I was still living the same week on repeat. Relationships came and went. Friendships drifted apart. The only things that seemed to change were my paycheque and my wardrobe.

I’ve been with my husband for nine years, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’ve accomplished things in my thirties that many people achieve in their twenties. And while there was a time when that realization filled me with shame, it doesn’t anymore.

Because the truth is, I may not have everything I thought I would have by 38, but I have exactly what I need. I have a husband who loves and supports our family. I have a son who challenges me, teaches me, and makes me laugh every single day. I have my little corner of the internet where I can connect with people who think, feel, and experience the world the way I do.

I’ve discovered a passion for writing. I’ve learned more about myself in the last few months than I did in the decade before. I’ve developed compassion for the younger version of me who was trying so hard to fit into a world that never quite made sense. And most importantly, I’ve stopped measuring my life against someone else’s timeline.

Today, I am 38 years old, and for the first time, I feel like I’m just getting started.

There are still dreams I want to chase, stories I want to tell, businesses I want to build, places I want to explore, and parts of myself I want to discover.

Because 38 isn’t too late. It’s simply where my story begins.