“The Life You Didn’t Plan—But Still Deserve”

Let’s tell the truth

Somewhere between the dreams we scribbled in journals and the detours we never saw coming, life threw its curveballs. Maybe it was a heartbreak that cracked you wide open. Maybe it was a job loss, a medical diagnosis, the death of someone you thought you couldn’t breathe without. Or maybe it was a thousand tiny disappointments that snowballed into the revelation that this—this version of your life—is not what you imagined.

But here’s the twist no one tells you in the brochures of adulthood: even the life you didn’t plan might be the very one that saves you.

When the Blueprint Burns, Build a Bonfire

We’ve all made those internal blueprints. You know—the by-25-I’ll-be-married, by-30-I’ll-have-a-house, by-35-I’ll-have-peace blueprint. And when those milestones don’t show up on schedule, we panic. We question our worth, our timing, and worse—our direction. But sometimes life sets fire to the blueprint, not to punish you, but to free you. What if the detour is the divine route? What if the rubble of your former plan is the raw material for something better, something real?

It’s humbling, no doubt. Starting over can feel like you’re being asked to run a marathon on tired legs, with no medal in sight. But starting over also means starting different. You’re no longer making choices with rose-colored glasses or untested optimism. You’re moving with experience, intuition, and a sharpened ability to tell the truth to yourself—even when it stings.

Grace in the Gap

Transitions—especially after trauma—can make you feel like you’re floating in the in-between. You’re no longer who you were, but not yet who you’re becoming. That middle space can feel awkward, isolating, or downright unfair. But give that space some grace. Healing isn’t linear, and neither is rebuilding.

You are allowed to mourn the old version of you while making room for who you’re becoming. You are allowed to sit in your softness and still be strong. You are allowed to not have it all figured out and still be worthy of abundance, laughter, and second chances.

And listen—if you’re still breathing, it means your purpose hasn’t expired. That alone makes you deserving. Not of scraps. Not of leftovers. But of a life that lights you up and makes you feel seen. Even if it looks nothing like the one you dreamed of at 18 with glitter gel pens and big ambition.

Rewrite the Narrative, Not the Pain

You don’t have to pretend it didn’t hurt. You don’t have to spiritualize every loss or tie a bow around every breakdown. Some things were unfair. Some moments did break your heart. But what you can do—what you must do—is stop letting those things narrate your now.

You have the pen now. Write a story that honors where you’ve been without being imprisoned by it. Reclaim your power by deciding what this next chapter looks like, even if you only have a paragraph figured out right now. Start there. Start small. Start scared. Just start.

And hey—if you’re going to walk through the fire, you might as well rise in it, fabulous and forward, like a phoenix with good shoes and better boundaries.

Reflection Questions:

What dream or plan have I been holding onto that no longer serves who I am now?
In what ways have I grown stronger, wiser, or softer because of what I’ve endured?
What part of my life needs more grace and less judgment?
How can I begin to build a life that feels true, even if it’s unfamiliar?
Who am I becoming—and what does that version of me need to thrive?

Insightful Advice:

Give yourself permission to pivot. Sticking to the original plan out of pride or fear will only keep you stuck in a season that has already expired.
Create new rituals that support who you are today. That may be morning walks, therapy sessions, unplugged Sundays, or affirmations that remind you you’re not behind—you’re becoming.
Surround yourself with people who get it. Not everyone deserves a front-row seat to your rebirth. Be intentional about your inner circle.
Don’t rush the rebuild. Life after loss isn’t about snapping back. It’s about stepping forward with sacred intention, even if your knees still shake.
Keep showing up. One journal entry, one prayer, one honest conversation at a time—you’re stitching together a life that’s rooted in truth, not fantasy.

So no, this may not be the life you planned—but it is the one you deserve. And when you embrace it with open hands and a willing heart, it just might surprise you with joy you didn’t know you were still capable of feeling.

Tonight, journal this: “What if the life I didn’t plan is the one that will finally bring me peace?

With grace and gentle fire,
Coach G
@ProvokeChange
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