Why I’m Not Ashamed of My Timeline

Listen, let me talk to you straight. I’m talkin’ real southern, sugar cane stalk and all, because there is no shame in my timeline. I am not sugarcoating a thing.

 For the longest time, I did not even clock how much quiet shame I was carrying about when stuff happened in my life. Nobody had to say a word to me about it. However, comparison slinks in, slick as cooking oil poured onto the shopping aisle onto the grocery store floor.

You scroll, you see what’s getting a lot of other folks attention on social media. You see the highlight reels, and next thing you know, you are mentally sizing up your own story like it is short a chapter or two. Hell, maybe three.

Suddenly, you catch yourself wondering, “Did I mess up? Did I waste years of my life? "Does my life mean I am forever trying to catch up with folks who look like they got their act together on social media?” 

Baby, let me tell you something, I used to think I was dragging behind too. But the older I get, the more clarity I gain. I know now that timelines are not anyone-size-fits-all. Mine was carved out of grit. Survival. Mine also showcase the meaning of learning when the world said, "Get it how you live!" It was not about hustlin' when it felt comfortable or convenient.

There is not a dot of shame in growing up fast when you are dealt a hand that says, “Grow up or get DF.” 

Some of us did not get handed soft landings or gentle mornings. We learned to bounce back before we ever learned how to slow down and exhale. Commitment came long before freedom gave us permission to dream. We stitched our lives together with ragged hope and kept it moving. That does not make our lives less. It makes every bit of it deep. Intentional and rooted in truth.

I am done with rushing to prove myself. I do not need to check off milestones on somebody else’s schedule. I refuse to measure my worth against somebody else’s walk of life. I laid down the heavy load of “catching up” and picked up the grace of “living on purpose.” 

It is not a damn thing lost here. Every version of me from being young, tired, crazy AF, or worn was doing her damned best with whatever she had. This woman standing here today? 

Well, she is built from all those chapters. Even the rough ones. It is the rough chapters that taught me discernment, boundaries, and how to fight for my peace like it’s Sunday dinner and I am knocking my people out the way to get to the last slice of sweet potato pie to take home. 

Healing is not on a timer. Growth does not require an audience clapping in the front row. Starting over does not mean you are starting from scratch. What it means to me is that you are starting with wisdom already tucked under your belt. 

So no, I’m not ashamed of my timeline. I am not a victim of the heavy responsibilities, the detours, or the times I had to rebuild from brokenness. I move like a woman who knows her worth. Who has earned her softness, her peace, and her right to choose herself over appearances every time.

This is what it looks like when a southern black woman stops rushing to live and starts honoring it. This is what it means to grow at your own damn pace. My roots are deep and wings are ready. This is where She’s Found Strength, and baby, I am serving it up with a little extra spice, a little extra soul, and all the intention in the world. You best believe your story's cooking up something real good too.