100 AMARAS vs RELEASING THE TIMELINE
Structure was the very air you breathed in an immigrant household. There was always a set path—focus on school first, then job, marriage and finally kids in that order. If I wasn’t already comparing my place in this race called life to others, my parents would provide the helpful reminders. “So-and-so is doing this, so-and-so achieved that.” I lived on timelines, checklists, milestones, and approval.
I was following well for a while there. I got the degrees. With a rocky start, I ended up landing the jobs. I have my decorated apartment now that I actually like opening the door to, a car I don’t have to pray over each and every morning, my finances are picking up pace. I even added a little detour along the way—my puppachino 🐶🐾 who brings me so much joy. Yet and still, there’s this one aspect of the “timeline” that feels like it’s running laps around me and I’m sure you know the one.
At 30, it was thought the foundation would be complete. We all imagined it. This time was about refining, stacking, flourishing in what we have while adding little knickknacks to the program. Little…and only because we were bored. Because we just felt like it. Instead, we have people reinventing. Starting from scratch. Here I am still stagnant at a particular point of the build that I can’t seem to move forward on. I’m watching some of my friends decorate their fully finished houses even on to their 2nd homes. Honestly? That stings.
Don’t get me wrong, I do not want someone else’s life. I’m not envious by any means of what others have. I hate that perspective. Sure that’s true for some but all I want is to add to mine. And I’m so tired of feeling stuck.
What I’m grieving is not the lack of blessings—it’s the continuous shift of the timeline. My timeline I set for myself. There’s a kind of mourning in realizing the picture I worked so hard on creating keeps having erasure marks, cross outs, and blatant edits that cause distortion. Rather than throwing it out all together I’m holding on and that’s the problem.
My best friend’s kids will probably be old enough to babysit mine for pay and that reality hits harder than I’d like to admit.
Vulnerably, letting go of my timeline is still an internal battle. I grew up on structure. Some days I accept the uncertainty with open arms, trusting God’s timing over my own. His plan is always better. Other days, I’m consumed with frustration, wondering why I’m still “building the base” instead of moving on to the finishing touches.
But here’s my affirmational reminder for this in-between. Life isn’t just about reaching the destination at a set time. It’s about living while en route no one knows when their journey will end. It’s also about savoring the detours, even when they weren’t part of the initial draft. It’s about trusting that just because my timeline is delayed it’s not denied. And it’s always ALWAYS for a reason.
Yes, I’m allowed to grieve. I’m allowed to be sad sometimes. But I’m also working on releasing my grip on a scRxipt that no longer serves me. Maybe, just maybe, the uncertainty is where the most beautiful parts of life are written and I need to embrace that.
My dramatic behind should probably have a paper burning ceremony…
