You Don’t Need a Borrowed Life to Justify Your Own
Lately, I’ve noticed a quiet pattern of guilt I want to name out loud—because I know I’m not the only one who’s felt it.
It goes something like this:
“If I had kids, I wouldn’t be able to do this…”
“I shouldn’t feel this free…”
“Am I being selfish for honoring my own rhythm?”
It’s a strange kind of guilt.
The kind that creeps in not because you’ve done anything wrong—
but because you’ve chosen to live fully inside a life that doesn’t follow the conventional script.
And when you’re a woman in midlife—without children, or divorced, or in a life transition that no longer looks like the one you imagined—it’s easy to feel like your peace needs an asterisk.
Like you have to borrow someone else’s struggle to validate your own freedom.
But here’s what I want to say to you, and to myself:
You do not need to borrow someone else’s life to make your own feel real.
You are allowed to thrive without a backstory.
You don’t need a crisis, a constraint, or a caretaking role to justify your purpose.
We’ve been conditioned to believe that nourishment must be earned.
That quiet mornings, yoga practices, or spacious decision-making are luxuries instead of birthrights.
But that’s a lie we inherited, not a truth we need to keep carrying.
That voice isn’t just about motherhood.
It’s about inherited definitions of legitimacy.
You were likely surrounded by people who framed parenting as the apex of purpose—especially for women.
So of course the shadow of that narrative lingers.
But here’s your truth:
Just because you could have lived that story doesn’t mean you have to carry it like it’s yours.
You don’t need to “compensate” for a life you didn’t choose.
And you don’t have to let that imagined version of you interrupt the one who’s here now, stretching toward her own sun.
So today, I’m releasing the guilt of living a life that doesn’t mirror someone else’s.
Remember:
You don’t have to simulate motherhood to feel legitimate.
You don’t need a crisis to prove you are resilient.
You don’t have to trade my peace for validation.
This is your life.
This is your story.
And it’s not a placeholder—it’s a path.
A sacred, sovereign, nourishing path.
If you’ve ever felt this too—like your life needs a constraint to feel purposeful—I see you.
Let’s name the ghost, release it, and come home to the freedom we’ve already earned.
A mantra for us all:
“I release the need to justify my peace.
I will not borrow hardship to earn joy.
I am living the life I have, not the one I lost or imagined.
And I will honor this life—not as a consolation prize,
but as a sacred, sovereign path of its own. I am a Nourished Leader.