Maybe We Don’t Need to Have It All Figured Out Yet

I’m turning 33 this year.

And for some reason, saying that out loud still makes me pause for a second. Not because I’m scared of getting older, but because I remember the version of me who thought 30 was basically… old. 😂

Like, 30-year-old me was supposed to have her shit together.

I thought by 30 I would own a house. I thought I would have a career, probably some nice little office job because that’s where I thought I was headed. In my early 20s, I went from working late-night security, to a warehouse, to an office job, and honestly, it was just a lot. I felt like I was missing so much while simultaneously trying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life.

I also remember being pretty damn sure I was done having kids.

And honestly, that decision wasn't only because my son would be older by the time I was 30. A lot of it came from trauma too. After everything I had experienced, the thought of pregnancy, childbirth, motherhood, and starting all over again was something I couldn't even imagine wanting.

I remember thinking, why would I comenzar de nuevo? By the time I'm 30, my son is going to be a teenager. Why would I want to start from zero again?

At the time, it made perfect sense to me.

And now I'm nearly 33 and… well, look at how things change. 😂

I wouldn't say I'm over here planning for another baby, because let's not get crazy. The thought of childbirth alone has me like ugh. And then there's the reality of raising another kid when my son is basically a teenager. The sleepless nights, the baby stage, the appointments, starting over…

Pero ahora?

I can honestly say I wouldn't mind another one.

And even saying that surprises me.

There's still fear there. A little “girl, are you sure?” Because I know what motherhood requires. I know what it feels like to put someone else's needs before your own. I know how much your life changes.

But I also know that I'm not the same woman I was in my early 20s.

And maybe that's the point.

For so long, I thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like. Then life happened, I changed, I healed, I experienced things, I grew up—and suddenly some of the things I thought were permanent decisions don't feel so permanent anymore.

Ven cómo cambian las cosas.

And I think that realization is part of why turning 33 feels different.

Because if you had asked 21-year-old me what my life would look like at 33, I probably would have given you a completely different answer.

I became a mom before I really knew who I was

I became a single mom at 21 with a one-year-old.

And if you’ve read my previous blogs or listened to my podcast, you probably know a little bit about that chapter of my life and the relationship I was leaving. If you haven't, you can always go back and read about it or listen to the podcast because… bueno, that's a whole other chisme.

But there I was.

Twenty-one years old, trying to figure out life—not just for myself anymore, but for a baby who depended on me.

And honestly?

I felt like I had failed.

I wanted my family to work out. I didn't want my son to grow up without seeing his dad every day. I didn't want to be the reason his life looked different from what I had imagined for him.

For a long time, I felt like leaving that relationship meant I had made a mistake.

Like somehow I had failed him.

And on top of that, I was trying to figure out how to make ends meet. I worked different jobs. I worked nights. I worked because I had to.

There were times when I would think about how much of my son's life I was missing because I was working while he was sleeping.

And then when I was home, my schedule was so backwards that sometimes I was physically there but mentally exhausted.

Survival mode is weird because when you're in it, you don't always realize you're in it.

You just keep going.

You wake up.

You work.

You take care of your kid.

You pay what needs to be paid.

You do it again.

And again.

And again.

Looking back, that whole period feels like a blur.

I don't even think I was really Josseline during some of those years.

I was an employee.

I was a mom.

I was someone trying to survive.

But who was I outside of those things?

I didn't really know.

Then came my “free time”

Every other weekend, my son would go with his dad.

And those weekends became my little taste of freedom.

I had become a mom so young, and I had been in a relationship young, so suddenly having time where nobody needed me felt… weirdly exciting.

I started going out.

Clubbing.

Drinking.

Being around friends.

Doing things that made me feel like I was finally getting to experience a part of my 20s that I felt like I had missed.

And honestly, I'm grateful for some of those memories.

I'm grateful for the friends who were around during that time too. Some of them probably didn't even fully know what was going on in my life or how much I needed that invitation to just come along.

Sometimes that's all I needed.

To be included.

To feel like I was part of something.

To have a few hours where I wasn't thinking about bills, motherhood, relationships, responsibilities, or everything else that was sitting on my shoulders.

But if I'm being completely honest, some of that time also got me into situations I wish I could go back and undo.

I can see patterns now that I couldn't see then.

Some of that “fun” was actually an escape.

I was trying to forget.

Trying to feel free.

Trying to feel young.

Trying to feel like I had an identity outside of being somebody's mom.

And eventually, I exhausted that version of fun.

Now?

Girl, the thought of getting dressed up to go clubbing sometimes makes me tired. 😂

But I don't look back at that version of me with shame.

I understand her more now.

She was trying to find herself.

Meanwhile, I was comparing my life to everyone else's

I spent a lot of my 20s looking around at other people my age and wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

Other people seemed to be moving forward.

Getting married.

Buying houses.

Traveling.

Building careers.

Figuring out life.

And I was over here like:

“Damn. I'm a single mom, I'm angry at life, I'm trying to make ends meet… what can I possibly accomplish?”

But here's the thing I didn't understand then:

We were all living completely different lives.

Some people had more support.

Some people had family helping them.

Some people had financial stability.

Some people had partners.

Some people had opportunities I didn't have.

And some people were probably struggling in ways I couldn't see either.

But I was comparing my journey to everyone else's without understanding that we don't all start from the same place.

And honestly, I think I spent a lot of time trying to prove myself.

Prove that I could do it.

Prove that I wasn't a failure.

Prove that leaving didn't ruin my life.

Prove that I could raise my son.

Prove that I could survive.

“Sí puedo.”

And yes, I did.

But at some point, I realized that living your life trying to prove something to everybody else isn't really living.

It's performing.

Then I started thinking about what I was actually building

As my son got older, something started changing in me.

I didn't just want to survive anymore.

I wanted to build something.

I started thinking about his future.

I didn't want him to become an adult and feel like he had to figure everything out completely on his own just because “ya era adulto.”

Because I know what that feels like.

I wanted him to have something.

Even if it was just money I was able to save poco a poco.

Something that could help him.

Something with his name on it.

Something that said, “Your mom was thinking about you before you even got here.”

And in trying to build something for him, I realized I was also building something for myself.

Maybe I didn't have the house I thought I would have by 30.

But I had a roof over our heads.

I could put food on the table.

And not just the necessities—the wants too.

I could buy something for myself.

I could buy something for my son.

I could provide.

I could make choices.

I could keep going.

And somehow, I had convinced myself that because I didn't have everything, I hadn't accomplished anything.

What a fucking lie.

Then I turned 30… and somehow got even harder on myself

You would think turning 30 would have made me feel accomplished.

Instead, I remember thinking:

“Why don't I have my shit together yet?”

Like, girl, you're 30.

Aren't you supposed to know what you're doing by now?

Shouldn't you have the house?

The career?

The savings?

The perfect relationship with yourself?

The perfect body?

The perfect business?

The perfect life?

And then something hit me.

My mom.

My mom was 30 when she left Honduras and came to the United States.

She didn't come here with everything figured out.

She didn't come here knowing exactly how her life was going to unfold.

She came here not knowing anyone, not having everything she needed, and with four children.

And she built.

She figured things out.

She went through so much to become the woman she is today.

And suddenly I was sitting here complaining that I was “getting old” because I didn't have everything figured out at 30.

Meanwhile, my mom was 30 and beginning an entirely new chapter of her life.

That realization was like a bucket of ice-cold water to the face.

Because maybe 30 isn't old.

Maybe 30 isn't the deadline.

Maybe 30 isn't when you're supposed to have the answers.

Maybe it's just another beginning.

So here I am at 33

I still don't own the house younger me thought I would have.

I don't have every answer.

I don't know exactly what the next five years will look like.

And honestly?

I don't think I want to pretend that I do anymore.

Because life has taught me that you can make a whole ass plan and life can look at it and say, “Cute.” 😂

I thought I would have my life figured out by 30.

Now I'm realizing I don't even think that's the point.

I'm still becoming.

I'm still learning what I like.

What I don't like.

What I want.

What I no longer want.

What feels good to me.

What doesn't.

I'm learning that some things I thought I wanted were really things I thought I should want.

I'm learning that I can be grateful for where I am while still wanting more.

I can want the house.

I can want financial freedom.

I can want to travel.

I can want to grow my business.

I can want more experiences.

I can even be open to the possibility of starting over with a baby someday, even though the thought still scares the shit out of me. 😂

And none of that means that what I have right now isn't enough.

Maybe enough doesn't mean finished.

Maybe enough just means I can appreciate where I am while I continue becoming who I'm meant to be.

And maybe that's what I needed to understand all along.

I wasn't behind.

I wasn't failing.

I wasn't too old.

I wasn't running out of time.

I was just living a life that didn't look like the one I imagined when I was 20.

And honestly?

I'm starting to think that's okay.

If I could sit across from 21-year-old me…

I don't think I would tell her everything is going to be easy.

Because it wasn't.

I wouldn't tell her she wouldn't make mistakes.

Because she absolutely would.

I wouldn't tell her she would have everything figured out by 30.

Because, well… here we are. 😂

But I would tell her:

You did not fail.

You were 21.

You were trying to raise a baby while learning how to be a woman yourself.

You were scared.

You were angry.

You were confused.

You were trying to survive.

And you didn't know then what you know now.

But you kept going.

And that girl who thought she had ruined everything?

She was actually laying the foundation for the woman she would become.

So maybe I don't need to have it all figured out yet.

Maybe neither do you.

Maybe we're allowed to take our time.

Maybe we're allowed to start over.

Maybe we're allowed to change our minds.

Maybe we're allowed to become someone completely different from who we thought we'd be.

And maybe 33 isn't the age where I finally have all the answers.

Maybe it's the age where I finally stop being so hard on myself for not having them.

And honestly, I think that's a pretty good place to be.