I’m Trying, I Promise

Sometimes I get this sinking feeling that I’m never going to become the person I always thought I was meant to be.

People constantly remind me of my value, my potential, the things they see in me. They say I’m capable of so much, that I have this light about me, this heart that was meant to touch people and leave them better than I found them. And I believe that. At least I want to. But lately it feels like the weight of my potential is somehow greater than my ability to reach it. Like there’s this version of me everyone can see except for me.

Everything feels foggy.

The goals that once felt so vivid now feel far away, blurred out by exhaustion, distractions, responsibilities, and thoughts I can’t seem to organize. I still have passions. I still care deeply. But they get buried beneath piles of unfinished to-do lists and promises I made to myself that I keep postponing until tomorrow.

I joke that I have ADD and can’t focus, but sometimes I wonder if that’s become a shield I hide behind because it’s easier than admitting I’m overwhelmed. Easier than admitting I don’t always know how to execute the dreams I carry.

I had such big plans for myself. I still do. But every time I try to prove myself, every time I feel like I’m finally moving forward, something in me stumbles and suddenly it feels like I’ve fallen six steps back.

And maybe the hardest part to admit is how often I do things just to make people proud. How much of my motivation has quietly become tied to hearing someone say, “You did good.” I rush decisions hoping they’ll finally make me feel accomplished, worthy, enough. And when that validation doesn’t come, I’m left sitting with the uncomfortable question of whether I ever wanted those things for myself in the first place.

I think this age hit me harder than I expected it to.

One moment I’m obsessing over my career and whether I’m doing enough with my life, and the next I’m hearing conversations about marriage, timelines, settling down, building futures. At the same time, I notice my parents and grandparents getting older in subtle ways that stop me in my tracks. It makes me question living away from them. It makes me wonder if chasing dreams is supposed to feel this heavy.

And somehow, in between all of that, life still expects the everyday version of you to function normally. Bills still need to be paid. Emails still need answers. Work still needs to get done. Responsibilities don’t pause while you figure yourself out.

It’s strange how adulthood arrives all at once. How life asks you to grow in every direction simultaneously without giving you instructions on how to hold everything together.

I’m learning more every day how to carry all of it without losing myself completely, but honestly, it’s hard.

And the thing is, I don’t compare my life to other people’s. I know I’ve accomplished things. I know there is so much in my life worth being grateful for. I know I’m loved deeply.

I just don’t think I realized how much of a mess becoming yourself would feel like while you’re in the middle of it.