I’m 27 and I’ve Lived Many Lifetimes: Stop Comparing Your Life to Mine

Please don’t compare your life to mine, babe. We’re not in the same league.

And before somebody gets offended by that title, let me explain.

I am not saying I am better than you.

I am not saying my life is more important than yours.

I am not saying I have everything figured out.

Honestly, I probably have more questions now than I did ten years ago.

What I am saying is that you cannot look at somebody’s age, their appearance, their relationship status, their job title, their motherhood status, their Instagram, or whatever tiny piece of their life you happen to have access to and assume you understand the road that got them there.

Because babe…

You genuinely have no fucking idea.

And at 27, I have lived so many different versions of myself in this one life that sometimes I genuinely have to sit back and think, how the hell have I already experienced all of that?

It is actually insane.

And I don’t think everyone around me will ever fully understand just how much life I feel like I have already lived.

But I do.

And I think that matters.

Because there is a type of wisdom that comes from reading about life.

There is another kind that comes from being absolutely fucking thrown into it.

I’ve had both.

I’ve lived a lot of lives already.

I was a wild child.

And when I say wild, I mean there are stories I probably won’t write about publicly because the internet does not need all of that chisme. Jajaja.

I was exposed to a lot, experienced a lot, saw a lot, and found myself around people and situations that forced me to understand the world way earlier than I probably should have.

Friends.

Strangers.

Drama.

Secrets.

Passion.

Heartbreak.

Bad decisions.

Good decisions that still hurt.

People coming into my life and completely changing my understanding of myself.

Dating alone taught me an absolutely ridiculous amount about human behavior, attraction, attachment, desire, intimacy, ego, insecurity, passion, and the ways people can completely lose themselves inside another person.

And yes, there were times when my hormones and emotions got the absolute best of me.

There were moments where I was dramatic.

There were moments where I was overwhelmed.

There were moments where I genuinely did not know what to do with everything I was feeling.

There were some very dark emotional chapters too.

Then there was family.

Then there was leaving high school two years before I was projected to graduate.

Then college.

Then growing up faster than the people around me.

Then marriage.

Then motherhood.

Then heartbreak.

Then divorce.

Then rebuilding.

Then spirituality.

Then motherhood while rebuilding.

Then figuring out who I actually am when I am no longer making decisions based on another person, another relationship, another expectation, or somebody else’s version of me.

That is a lot of fucking life.

And I say that without trying to make it sound tragic.

Because it isn’t.

It’s just mine.

Every piece of it.

I had to grow up fast.

Leaving high school early changed my life socially and mentally.

I was suddenly experiencing environments and conversations that put me around people who were older than me, and honestly?

I loved it.

I’ve always felt mentally mature.

At the same time, I also loved being silly, making people laugh, being chaotic, being spontaneous, and just having fun.

So yes, I could look childish.

But I really wasn’t.

There is a difference.

I didn’t need to constantly prove that I was mature because I knew what I had already experienced.

And that also made me less willing to put up with immature bullshit.

Not just from friends.

From boyfriends.

From family.

From social expectations.

From people who thought there was some invisible rulebook I was supposed to follow simply because that was what everybody else was doing.

I wasn’t interested.

And maybe that is why I have always been a little bit of a loner.

Not because I didn’t like people.

I actually love people.

I just didn’t need constant access to them to feel secure.

I was always the person who could somehow be friends with everyone.

Different cliques.

Different personalities.

Different social circles.

Different versions of people.

And I loved that.

Because I could enter a room, connect with whoever I connected with, laugh, talk, experience the moment…

and leave.

I didn’t need to belong to the group to validate who I was.

I could be with everybody and still belong completely to myself.

That was a huge part of learning who I was.

I realized I didn’t have to be understood by everyone.

For a long time, I cared.

I moved around a lot growing up, so there were a lot of different schools, friendships, environments, and versions of me that existed in different places.

And because of that, there were always different stories about me.

Different people knew different versions.

Different groups heard different things.

Different people thought they knew me.

At first, that bothered me.

I remember thinking, What if nobody ever actually knows me?

What if there are just a bunch of random versions of me floating around in other people’s heads forever?

And then one day I realized…

Who gives a fuck?

Seriously.

Why was I giving other people control over my story simply because they had an experience of me?

Their experience of me is not my identity.

Their assumptions are not my identity.

Their jealousy is not my identity.

Their misunderstanding is not my identity.

Their version of events is not automatically the truth.

And once I realized that, I felt free.

Like genuinely liberated.

Because I stopped feeling responsible for maintaining some universally accepted reputation of myself.

I didn’t need everyone to agree on who I was.

I knew who I was then.

And I know who I am now.

That is enough.

Spirituality changed the way I understood my life.

I grew up very egoistic.

And yes, I mean that exactly how it sounds.

I was very focused on myself, my feelings, my experiences, what I wanted, what I thought was happening, and how things affected me.

Then I was exposed to spirituality.

The occult.

The unseen arts.

Buddhism.

Different philosophies about consciousness, purpose, energy, existence, ego, suffering, detachment, and what it actually means to be alive.

And suddenly my perspective got a whole lot bigger.

I started realizing there was so much more to learn about life itself.

About why we’re here.

About how much of our suffering comes from attachment.

About how much of our identity is built from things we were taught instead of things we consciously chose.

About how easily people absorb other people’s fear, expectations, insecurity, and beliefs without ever stopping to ask:

Wait… is this even mine?

That question changed a lot for me.

Because I became very aware of how often I was picking up thoughts, emotions, expectations, and pressures that did not belong to me.

And once I could recognize that, I could leave it where it belonged.

With them.

Not me.

That is a very different way of moving through life.

And it made me much more intentional about how I live.

Especially through hardship.

Because hardship is inevitable.

You can run from it.

You can numb yourself.

You can blame everybody.

You can make it your identity.

Or you can ask yourself what the experience is here to teach you.

I’m not saying I always handled things perfectly.

Obviously fucking not.

I’m saying I learned to look at my life as something I am actively participating in rather than something that is simply happening to me.

And that distinction changed everything.

So please stop judging people by their age.

This is really the point of this entire post.

Please don’t judge me for being 27.

Please don’t judge me for my life experiences.

Please don’t judge me for what I’ve done, what I’ve survived, what I’ve learned, what I want, what I am building, or how quickly I move.

And especially…

please don’t judge something in my life that you haven’t cared enough to experience for yourself.

You don’t have to want my life.

You don’t have to understand my decisions.

You don’t have to agree with every choice I’ve made.

But you also don’t get to reduce my entire existence to the number attached to my age.

Because age and experience are not the same thing.

Neither are age and wisdom.

Neither are age and self-awareness.

Some people are 50 and still running from themselves.

Some people are 22 and have already been forced to rebuild their entire identity.

Some people want stability.

Some people want adventure.

Some people want marriage.

Some people don’t.

Some people want children.

Some don’t.

Some people want a quiet life.

Some people want to see everything.

There is no universal timeline.

There is only the life you are actually living.

And babe, I need you to live yours.

This is the part that is actually a wake-up call.

Not just to you.

To me.

Because sometimes I need the reminder too.

Stop looking around so much.

Stop comparing your chapter to somebody else’s.

Stop obsessing over who is ahead.

Stop worrying about who has more.

Stop worrying about who got married first, had a baby first, bought the house first, traveled first, made money first, healed first, left first, started the business first, or figured themselves out first.

Who fucking cares?

Seriously.

Do you know how much life you miss when you are busy monitoring somebody else’s?

You technically do not get to fully live your life when your attention is constantly somewhere else.

And I am not interested in doing that.

I’m interested in experiencing this life.

I want the stories.

The travel.

The business.

The love.

The heartbreak.

The lessons.

The beautiful moments.

The ugly ones.

The weird ones.

The spontaneous ones.

The peaceful ones.

The ones that make absolutely no sense until five years later when you suddenly go, OHHHHHH. That’s why that happened.

I want to fucking live.

And I want you to live too.

Not perform.

Not impress.

Not keep up.

Not become who your family thinks you should be.

Not become who your partner thinks you should be.

Not become who your friends think you should be.

Not become some polished version of yourself that is easier for everybody else to digest.

Be it all.

Be complicated.

Be passionate.

Be ambitious.

Be soft.

Be loud.

Be quiet.

Be weird.

Be adventurous.

Be spiritual.

Be curious.

Change your mind.

Start over.

Leave.

Stay.

Travel.

Build.

Rest.

Try something new.

Become somebody your younger self would have never imagined.

And then become somebody you didn’t expect.

I don’t want my blessings to make you feel like shit.

This is important to me.

I don’t talk about my life because I want somebody else to look at theirs and feel behind.

I don’t share because I need you to think I am special.

I share because I want people to feel something.

Excitement.

Passion.

Curiosity.

Possibility.

I want somebody reading this to think:

Wait… maybe I actually can do that.

Maybe I don’t have to wait.

Maybe I am allowed to want more.

Maybe I am not too old.

Maybe I am not too young.

Maybe I don’t need permission.

YES.

That’s the energy I want.

Because there are people out there who genuinely want to see you succeed.

People who want you to be happy.

People who want you to experience more.

People who will celebrate the version of you that scares you to become.

LIKE MEEEEEE.

Hi!!!!!! 😀

Seriously.

I am one of those people.

I want you to fucking win.

I want you to fall in love with your life.

I want you to get excited about Monday mornings.

I want you to stop waiting for your “real life” to start.

This is it.

This weird, beautiful, complicated, sometimes painful, sometimes hilarious life you’re already living?

This is the life.

And now I’m finally giving myself credit.

Maybe that is what this post is really about.

Maybe this is me finally looking at 27-year-old me and saying:

Girl… look at everything you’ve fucking lived through.

Look at how many versions of yourself you’ve met.

Look at how many times you’ve had to rebuild.

Look at how many environments you’ve adapted to.

Look at how many people you’ve loved.

Look at how much you’ve learned.

Look at how many identities you’ve outgrown.

Look at how many times you’ve had to trust yourself when you didn’t have anyone else to do it for you.

Look at the fact that you are still curious.

Still dreaming.

Still laughing.

Still wanting more.

Still believing there is something bigger waiting for you.

And most importantly…

look at the fact that nobody got to take that from you.

Not other people’s opinions.

Not old friendships.

Not relationships.

Not expectations.

Not heartbreak.

Not motherhood.

Not marriage.

Not divorce.

Not the versions of you that no longer exist.

None of it.

I’m still here.

And I am still becoming.

So no, babe.

Please don’t compare your life to mine.

We’re not in the same league.

Because we are not playing the same game.

And you shouldn’t be trying to.

You have your own life to live.

Your own experiences to collect.

Your own mistakes to make.

Your own wisdom to earn.

Your own story to tell.

Go fucking live it.

And I’ll go live mine.

Unapologetically.

P.S. I’ve been told I need to start audio versions of my blog because apparently reading my actual voice and hearing the way I really talk would give these posts a whole other dimension. And honestly… I agree. So stay tuned for that little upgrade. 😉

Also, yes, I have a ridiculous amount of things sitting in my drafts that I never had the time to publish.

But now?

I do.

And there is a lot of good chisme coming.

😉
xxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooXOXO,
ALM <333