I work hard. I earn well. From the outside, it looks like I’m doing fine. Better than fine, maybe.

But quietly, it feels like I’m still behind. Like I’ve missed something. Like I’m chasing a moving target I can’t name. There’s a quiet pressure under everything I do, like I should be further along, even if I can’t explain what that means.

Even when I hit a goal, it disappears the next day. The finish line keeps moving. I raise the bar, not to celebrate, but because I don’t know what to do without something higher to chase. I measure my progress in numbers, in promotions, in outcomes—but none of it seems to settle the feeling that I’m late for something.

There’s always someone doing more. Someone younger, more disciplined, more visionary. I scroll past them, and instead of feeling inspired, I feel behind. Like I should’ve started earlier. Like I missed the memo.

It’s strange to live in a reality that many people would envy, and still carry this persistent, invisible weight. Gratitude and pressure coexisting. I’m grateful—I am. But I’m also exhausted. And a little ashamed that success hasn’t made me feel secure.

I wonder if “enough” is even real. Or if it’s just an idea we chase to keep moving forward. Maybe there is no moment where I’ll feel completely caught up. Maybe part of growing is realizing that the finish line is an illusion.

So I’m trying something different. I’m trying to pause before I move the goalpost. To notice the wins, not just the gaps. To ask myself whether the voice saying I’m behind is telling the truth—or just repeating a fear I’ve heard too many times.

I still want more. That hasn’t changed. But I want to want it without punishing myself for not having it yet.

I work hard. I earn well. Maybe I’m not behind. Maybe I’m just living in a world that never learned how to stop measuring everything.