Things I Thought I'd Be By Now

A midlife inventory I never meant to make — and what I’m learning from it.

I didn’t make a list.

Not at 20. Not at 30. Not even at 40.

I can feel an inventory forming — a list I never meant to write. A list of things I thought I’d be by now.

Have you ever assumed that by a certain age — a number on the calendar of your life — you'd be in a particular place by now? At a specific mile marker along your path?

I’m 45. And as I inch toward 50 — which I know is still young, it’s got me wondering:

am I where I want to be right now?

I’ve never been the kind of person to be like:

I want to be married by 22.

I want to have kids by X age.

I want to own a house with a white picket fence.

I want to have this career/job/lifestyle by [insert year here]..

Okay, so I did check off the first thing on that list above. I did get married at 22. And I’ve been married since then, so my husband Michael and I have been married for 24 years (almost), and together about 26. Which just makes me feel so darn old. Because I don’t even feel as old as I am — and it doesn’t seem like we’ve been together that long!

But the second point on that above list – kids – are not my jam. I’ve never been a fan. It’s not that I once dreamed of becoming a mom and changed my mind. The truth is, I never wanted to be a parent. Not even for a moment. It’s just not a part of who I am. So I am happily childfree by choice. And with 46 years of life behind me, I’m still totally happy with that decision.

Though thinking about the whole children thing, it’s so strange to think that if I had had children earlier in my life (say my 20s) my kids would now be in their 20s. I’d have adult kids by now. That thought just totally weirds me out. Because that’s never been on my so-called life-plan (not dissing anyone who does have kids and has that as part of their own life journeys, of course).

The house thing is also something I don’t have.

I don’t own a home — though we do live in a townhouse, so it’s not like we’re out on the street or anything.

But, we rent. We can’t afford a house where we live (most are over 1 million dollars (Canadian), even for modest, aging homes). It’s crazy. If we moved away from where we are now - maybe to somewhere we’ve been looking at to retire - we could almost afford a place. Not quite yet. But maybe someday.

But this again goes back to the no kids thing. Because we don’t have offspring, it’s not like we need to have any sort of house to leave any family. So… that’s a thing. Perhaps we’ll eventually actually buy and own a place, but if not, where we are is good enough (though I would love in-suite laundry. And a fenced yard).

And finally, career. Sometimes I compare myself to the household names — people a few years younger or older who’ve done extraordinary things.

Actor Jason Segel is just five months younger than me. He’s starred in many films, written scripts, and is now creating (and starring in) hit series like Shrinking. Ryan Reynolds, a fellow Vancouverite, is 48 — and his career speaks for itself.

Their accomplishments are easy to Google. Mine are quieter, harder to quantify. But that doesn’t make them less valid.

And I just work in an office. Actually no, not just. There’s not anything wrong with that, of course. I like my job. But I do sometimes feel like:

could I be doing more with my life than what I am?

But it does make me feel…less than, sometimes. Like I’m doing life wrong. I know that’s silly, and I also know that’s not correct. But it makes me wonder:

Why haven’t I become a successful author by now?

Why hasn’t one of my books been made into a TV mini series?

Why haven’t I XYZ?

Should I be further along in my work-life than where I am?

Not that I want to be an actor and whatever else Jason Segel or Ryan Reynolds have on their extensive resumes…

And my inner critic pipes up loudly whenever I hear of people younger (or just slightly older) than me doing amazing things and it has me feeling small.

It’s impossible for me not to feel like why haven’t I done big/exciting/cool things with my life by now? But my own versions. Like I said: successful author or writer. And/or the owner of a massive ranch, home for dozens of rescue dogs and running my own boutique cafe. That’s not asking much, is it?

But then I take some heart in remembering that so many people didn’t find their stride — or even start what they’re now known for — until their 40s, 50s, or beyond.

It seems like, for a lot of these wildly successful people, these household names often came into their own in their later decades. So that gives me hope. It gives me something to shut up my noisy little devil of an inner critic on my shoulder, and to listen to the better angels of myself and my life instead.

I know I’ve done a lot, and accomplished a lot in my life, in the grand scheme of things, when I look back over the years.

I’ve got a University degree in Criminology and work in that field. I’ve taken various courses and certificates in things that interest me in the intervening years. I’ve written and self published a bunch of novels and other books. I’ve travelled (to various countries in Europe, Africa (Egypt), parts of the US, parts of Canada (where I live)). I’ve lived and worked in another country (the UK - specifically Scotland).

And I know that life isn’t a competition anyway.

But sometimes…it’s hard not to compare. Especially in a world where everyone’s highlight reel is right in your face. Y'know? And social media doesn’t make it any easier, does it?

I know I’m not alone in this.

So, in the end, maybe I am content. And I’m still becoming. I’m not where I thought I’d be, but I’m more myself than I ever have been. And I’m nowhere near the end.

I still have hopes, yes. And dreams, of course. Things I’d like to maybe accomplish one day (hello professional writer!). If we didn’t have ambitions, life would be pretty dull, wouldn’t it?

But I don’t need to rush toward them to prove my worth.

But I wonder – do we (read: I) always have to be continually reaching for something? Or can we be content with what we have and leave it at that? Does every shiny thing have to catch our eye and we feel we have to have it?

So here’s a soft invitation. Mostly for me, but maybe for you too:

Make a gentle list today.

Not of goals or milestones or to-dos or things to fix.

But of who you’ve become in between all the things.

The quiet victories you rarely talk about.

The versions of yourself you’ve grown into without applause.

The choices you made with intention and purpose.

The resilience that no one saw.

And maybe, just maybe, remind yourself that a timeline is not a measure of your worth or value and you’re right where you need to be, wherever you find yourself.

That’s a reminder for me.

And maybe for you, too. And whoever else might need to hear it.

If this letter found you at the right time, feel free to share it with someone else who might need a little wonder today.

Dose of Wonder is a free publication.
If something here stirred your heart or made you pause — and you’d like to support my work — you can do so for less than the price of a fancy coffee (just $3).
Click the image below or the ‘Support Me’ link at the top of my page (doseofwonder.ca). Every small contribution helps keep the wonder flowing.

With heartfelt thanks, always.
— Caitlin

P.S. Want to write for Dose of Wonder?

If you're curious about sharing your voice and ideas here as a guest writer, I’d love to hear from you. Your piece will be sent to all my subscribers—and you can cross-post it to your own audience too.

More eyes. More wonder. More connection.

Curious? Read this article for all the details →