The View From My Own Lane

This week I found myself looking sideways.

Again.

It started innocently enough.

Photos from Italy.

The SeneGence top achievers trip.

Beautiful hotels.
Beautiful food.
Beautiful experiences.

And if I'm honest, I was jealous.

Not because I don't want them to enjoy it.

They've worked hard for it.

But sometimes it's hard not to wonder what might have been.

What if I'd worked harder?

What if I'd started earlier?

What if I'd pushed myself more?

Then the 50th anniversary of Finke wouldn’t leave my head.

For more than ten years I served as Treasurer. Countless meetings, sponsorship discussions, budgets, reconciliations, volunteer hours, data entry, cheques to write, money to count, the actual event and endless memories.

Yet when the celebrations came around, there was no invitation.

Maybe it was an oversight.

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe they assumed I'd come or maybe they assumed I wouldn't.

The truth is, I'll never know.

But it hurt. More than I expected.

Because sometimes an old bruise only needs the slightest touch to remind you it's still there.

Then I looked around and saw other things.

Handmade friends exhibiting at huge interstate events.

Creatives selling out entire beautiful collections.

Products being stocked in stores.

People ranking in their businesses.

People achieving goals they once only dreamed about.

And if I'm being completely honest, the questions started.

Am I trying hard enough?

Am I brave enough?

Are my products good enough?

Am I holding myself back?

Should I be doing more?

It's not a particularly comfortable conversation to have with yourself.

The funny thing is, none of those questions came from a place of wanting someone else to fail.

I genuinely celebrate other people's success.

I love seeing good people do well.

What I struggle with is wondering whether I'm doing enough to create success in my own life.

Then this week, somewhere between EOFY deadlines, football training, treadmill walks, a plumber visit, my grandmothers birthday and another Go Pink post, I realised something.

I've been looking at somebody else's scoreboard.

And that's a game I'm never going to win.

Because their scoreboard isn't mine.

My scoreboard looks different.

My scoreboard has a daughter at university.

A son at school with a part-time job.

A husband who continues to fight through health challenges.

A 27-year accounting career.

A blog I've written consistently for almost a year.

A newsletter that some people actually open and hopefully read.

A small business built around creativity.

Fundraising for causes I care about.

A community I've spent years helping.

A mortgage that's still being paid.

A life that, while imperfect, is still mine.

The older I get, the more I realise every lane has a cost.

The person travelling might wish they had more time with family.

The person ranking might be sacrificing evenings and weekends.

The person selling out stock might be working until midnight.

The person with the shop account might be carrying stress I know nothing about.

Every lane comes with trade-offs.

I chose a career.

I chose a family.

I chose to stay in Swan Hill.

I chose to build businesses around the edges of an already full life.

And while that lane hasn't led me to Italy this year, it has led me somewhere else.

To people I love.

To experiences that matter.

To stories worth telling.

To a life that feels like mine.

Do I still want more?

Of course I do.

I still have goals.

I still have dreams.

I still wonder what might be possible if I pushed harder.

But perhaps the answer isn't to stop looking ahead.

Perhaps it's simply to stop measuring my progress against someone else's scoreboard.

Because this is the view from my own lane.

And when I stop looking sideways long enough to appreciate it, it's actually a pretty good view.