The Wisdom of Time

Well y’all, it’s been about two months since I last posted on this blog that was supposed to go up at least weekly. I’ve written ideas down almost every day, but I haven’t made the time to sit down and actually write. Truthfully, I think part of me avoided it because deep down I already knew what I needed to admit to myself.

I need to slow down.

Lately I have been piling more and more onto my plate trying to become “better.” Trying to maximize every hour of the day. Trying to rush things that only time can heal. Somewhere along the way I convinced myself that by now I should have it all figured out. I should have the perfect routine. The perfect balance. The perfect schedule that somehow allows me to be the best mom, run a successful business, heal emotionally, stay healthy, stay disciplined, stay creative, stay present, and still somehow look put together while doing it all. Professionally, I am almost always the youngest person in the room, and for a second when I really stopped to think about that, I felt proud of myself. But somewhere along the way I started overlooking how far I’ve come and only focusing on how far I still think I need to go.

Surely by now I should be meal prepping balanced meals, hitting every macro goal, drinking enough water, getting 16,000 steps in, lifting consistently, responding to every client fast enough that they don’t move on to someone cheaper, more available, or more experienced, planning preschool lessons, baking bread, fulfilling orders, keeping a spotless home, filming content, editing galleries, maintaining friendships, getting outside, healing my grief, overcoming anxiety, learning emotional regulation, studying nutrition, growing in my faith, learning to love my body, becoming financially stable, and still somehow having enough energy left over to fully pour into every person I love.

And every single day that I can't do all of it, I feel like I failed.

When I finally sit down and look at everything I expect from myself on a daily basis, I realize I have been measuring my worth by impossible standards. By standards I would never ask of anyone else. Every day feels like a race I am constantly losing no matter how hard I try to win.

But last night, I laid down beside my baby girl and watched her smile at me while talking about animal sounds and singing little songs I sing to her throughout the day. At 8 p.m., the only thing on her mind was Patty Cake. She looked over at me and said, “Oh hi mama,” like I was the safest and best thing in her entire world.

And suddenly everything got quiet.

Because while I’ve been obsessing over becoming a “better” version of myself, my children have already been loving me as I am.

That moment reminded me this is what matters. This moment. This version of life right now.

Why do we hold ourselves to timelines we would never expect from anyone else? We understand that meaningful things take time. We wouldn’t want a tattoo artist to rush a sleeve in an hour. We wouldn’t trust a doctor who only went to school for one day and then said, “Let’s operate.” We wouldn’t marry someone after knowing them for a week (well most wouldn’t haha). Deep down we know that good things require patience, intention, and time.

So why are we so cruel to ourselves when our own growth takes time too?

I know I’m not alone in this feeling. I know so many of us are addicted to constantly raising the bar because we know we are capable of becoming something incredible. But just because we are striving for more does not mean we are failing where we are.

When I look back at my life, I realize I am already living prayers that an older version of me cried over.

The woman I was five years ago would not believe this life exists. She would not believe that one day she would have two beautiful babies calling her mama, a home that finally feels peaceful, fresh bread cooling on the counter, galleries exporting on her computer, and a career built from the girl taking iPhone photos, with $2 in the bank trying to figure out lighting in her 1 bedroom apartment. She would not believe that I learned how to set boundaries with the people who hurt me, that I stopped letting the fear of what everyone thought of me consume my entire life, that I came back to God, learned how to cope without food or overexercising, and finally started understanding that healing is not something you earn by suffering. She would not believe that I learned what real love feels like, grieve honestly, dance again, nourish my body instead of punish it, create artwork, and build a life that once felt completely impossible for me.

The girl taking iPhone photos four years ago could never have imagined where we would be today.

So why do I keep living like who I am today still isn’t enough? And honestly, who am I even trying so desperately to prove myself to anymore? I spent so many years worrying about being enough for everyone else, and the truth is I don’t anymore and that alone speaks volumes. For God, I am already enough. For my babies, I am already enough. And if love finds me again one day, I know the right person will love me for who I am now, not for some future version of me I’m exhausting myself trying to become. Because the truth is, we can only truly love people as they are in the present, not for who they might someday turn into.

But somewhere along the way, I became the hardest person for myself to satisfy. Maybe the real healing is learning that I do not have to earn my own love by achieving every impossible standard I set for my life. Maybe I am allowed to be proud of who I already am while still growing into who I want to become.

Growth is beautiful. Discipline is beautiful. Wanting better for yourself is beautiful. But wisdom comes from understanding that becoming takes time. Healing takes time. Stability takes time. Love takes time. Confidence takes time.

Nothing rushed ever blooms the way it was meant to.

Lately I’ve caught myself replaying old situations thinking, “If I knew then what I know now, things would have ended differently.” But the truth is, that version of me made decisions with the knowledge she had at the time. She was learning. She was surviving. She was doing her best.

And I am now.

I cannot do every single thing on my list every day. But I can do some of them. I can move forward slowly. I can love my children well. I can keep showing up. I can keep trying. And maybe that is what success actually looks like. 

Not perfection.
Not exhaustion.
Not proving your worth through constant productivity.

Just consistency.
Just presence.
Just continuing.

We spend so much of life chasing the next version of ourselves that we forget to honor the person carrying us there.

You are enough today.
Not when you finally heal.
Not when your body changes.
Not when your business grows.
Not when life becomes easier.
Today.

Because the truth is, every version of you that survived until now deserves credit too.

You cannot rush grief.
You cannot rush healing.
You cannot rush wisdom, love, purpose, or growth.

But you can rush through your life so quickly trying to arrive somewhere that you forget to actually live it while you’re here.

And I think that’s what I’m finally learning.

Maybe the goal was never to become perfect as fast as possible.
Maybe the goal was simply to become slowly, honestly, and fully while still allowing yourself to be loved in the middle of the process.

One day we will look back and realize the most beautiful parts of our lives were never the moments that we finally “made it,” but the moments we allowed ourselves to breathe long enough to actually be there to learn the wisdom of time.

Thank you for being here,

Kaitlyn