1.3 Who I Thought I'd Be

Who did you think you’d be by now?

On her 40th birthday, Nicole looks back at the versions of herself she thought she’d become—and the expectations, disappointments, and unexpected turns that shaped who she actually is.

From a questionable relationship with anti-aging cream to career changes, church ministry, old birthday blogs, and the quiet grief of a life that didn’t go exactly as planned, Nicole asks what might be underneath our tendency to compare.

Maybe comparison isn’t always the problem. Maybe it’s just the symptom.

And maybe becoming who you were made to be starts with paying attention to what’s been forming in you all along.

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A few years ago, during what I can only describe as my quarter-life crisis, I became one of those people. I was suckered into selling Rodan and Fields, and if you've ever been in an MLM, you already know where this is going. And before you judge me, I just wanna tell you, I've also bought kitchen gadgets at 2:00 AM because someone on the internet promised they would change my life. Apparently, I'm susceptible to hope, um, especially the kind that comes in a bottle. And hey, if you sold it too, welcome. This is a safe space. You know as well as I, we had all those before and after pictures. We had miracle creams. We had anti-aging routines and all kinds of promises about looking younger for longer, and I bought in, literally. I faithfully washed my face. I applied the expensive eye cream. I took the before pictures. I believed every wrinkle was one serum away from disappearing. And fast-forward to this morning, I looked in the mirror, and my first thought was, mm, well, that didn't age quite like they promised me." And then my second thought was this: So when exactly does researching an eye lift become responsible adult behavior? I'm not saying I'm gonna do it. I'm just wondering when it moves from vain to, let's call it preventative maintenance. This episode isn't about wrinkles, or is it? Hey, thanks so much for being here, and welcome to The Things We Don't Say. I'm Nicole. If you're like me, most of us move through our days without realizing how much is actually happening beneath the surface. I get it. I get the conversations, the disappointments, a laugh around the dinner table, or any other moment that seems ordinary. But here's the thing, there's something deeper, and it's time we take a closer look. Around here, we tell stories, we ask better questions, and we look for purpose and humor and hope hidden in ordinary, everyday life, because sometimes the smallest moments end up changing us the most. So let's talk about the things we don't say. We are all wrinkled people Maybe this episode is about wrinkles. If you're 17 and you're listening to this, I believe you are susceptible to hope too for all the right reasons. So let's hold on to that optimism, baby, okay? Because we're all wrinkled people. It's so poetic, right? This is probably on a Pinterest board somewhere, but there's truth in that analogy. Admit it. Wrinkles come from life. Life leaves marks. Some wrinkles come from laughter, some from grief, some from sleepless nights, some from worry, and some from joy, and some because we probably had one hangover too many. But let's face it, the experiences that we have and how we experience them are what's wrinkling us. And so you, the 17-year-old who's listening to this, what you're going through right now, it's giving you the best wrinkle ever. And it might not show up on your face yet, but it's shaping you. And you, the 45-year-old who's probably having a similar morning to mine, remember that life, right? You'll see this person and those experience that made you. Don't spend your life trying to avoid the wrinkles. Spend it asking what kind of person they're making you. Um, again, so, okay, so I want to go back to this morning. I was standing there. I'm looking in the mirror now as a 40-year-old thinking, "Goodness me, is this the version of myself I thought I'd be?" And to be honest, nearly every morning of the last three years, I feel like I would look in the mirror at every new line feeling like this is evidence that I wasn't becoming the version of myself that I thought I would be. Somewhere along the way, I think I started believing that if I could slow down the wrinkles, maybe I could hold on to the version of myself that I had imagined. I had a picture in my mind of who 40-year-old Nicole would be, and I'd be more patient. But I'm not. I'm not. Just ask my mom, ask my kids, ask my husband. I am not a patient person, and I wanted to be more disciplined. Um, do you know Betty? She loves to rule my life and interfere with all my goals. I wanted to be more consistent. And okay, yeah, I'll give myself that one. I've gotten better at that, but only because I've learned the hard way. I wanted to be more figured out. Yeah, I really thought I'd be her. Here's probably my biggest broken expectation, though. I'm gonna hit you with it. I really thought that I'd be using my degrees professionally to financially contribute to my family. And I really thought I'd have a clearer career path than this instead of fumbling through opportunities and trying to figure out what's next. And maybe you're right there with me, or maybe not. Maybe for you, you thought you'd still be married or that you'd be getting into your dream college or university. Maybe that parenting would come more naturally or that you'd be a stay-at-home parent. Maybe you thought you'd be happier or healthier further along or whatever it is. We all carry expectations of who we thought we'd be today. And for me My expectation, it wasn't just about the money, it was about my identity, and I don't think I even realized that until I lost it. Um, I've shared before that I love building people up, like love it. I love loving people no matter who they are, no matter what they've done, because I truly believe that people matter, and I think that's why I love my job at church so much. I started working there as one of the first paid staff members. Our church was like itty-bitty back then, and somehow God let me grow up alongside of it. I remember sitting around our pastor's kitchen table looking at the blueprints and paint colors and flooring samples, and I remember walking the building with tired feet looking for Trey 'cause I was ready to go home, but he was still assembling the chairs that now sit in the foyer. And I remember designing the signs that now hang by the front doors that tell every person who walks through the door that they belong, and this place still has such a huge part of my heart. And I wasn't showing up for a job there. I sat with people in grief, and I celebrated in their victories, and I prayed with them, and I laughed with them, and I got to watch people meet Jesus. And even better, I got to be a part of them knowing Jesus, and those weren't just the people that I served. They became people that I loved, and it's a gift that I will never forget. I became a part of their stories, but they became a part of mine. And it's, it still chokes me up because leaving that job is one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do. After Pippa was born and I came back from maternity leave, it became very clear that I wasn't coming back to the same role that I'd left, and it wasn't one big conversation. It wasn't one terrible day. Um, the best thing that I can kind of equate it to was that it was like realizing your favorite sweater doesn't fit the way that it used to. Um, but like I said, this place still has such a huge part of my heart, and I still thank God for letting me be a part of that story. I don't tell you that story so that you feel sorry for me. I tell you because I think all of us eventually discover that sometimes the life we expected is quietly slipping away, not because someone was ugly or because we failed, but because sometimes seasons just change. And there's days when it's still deeply painful, where I still grieve that season, where I still cry about it even, and it was two years ago. And then there are days when I feel deeply humbled and just have this overwhelming gratitude that I got to be a part of watching so much happen in some ways from the ground up, and it brings me this unbelievable joy. Both things can be true. I found myself asking, "What am I supposed to do when the story I planned for myself ends before I'm ready?" And for a while, I thought that losing that role meant losing part of myself because if I wasn't doing that role at church, then who was I? It just goes back to imagining who I thought I would be. I thought that I would still be working there. I thought that I would still have this huge impact there. But it's really, you know, these two different lives in my mind. It's where I am now and where I thought I would be. It's not really about wishing that I was her It's not wishing that I'd done things differently. And as I think through that, that surprises me because for a long time I thought peace would come when I finally figured out the right path. Was I still supposed to be working there, or was I supposed to be doing what I'm doing right now? Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to rewrite my story, and I stopped measuring it against everyone else's. Those are two different things. One of them says, "I wish my story had gone differently," but the other one says, "I wish I had theirs." And I realized those weren't the same question. I'm busy living the moment. I'm surrounded by opportunities to compare myself to other people. Hello, imposter syndrome, right? But I'd rather spend my energy connecting with people and building them up through genuine kindness and meaningful yeses like we talked about. I'd rather be so invested and uniquely engaged in the life that I'm living that I don't wanna waste it longing for someone else's, because that's their story, and this is mine. And maybe there's more beauty in the story you're already living than you've stopped long enough to notice. Um, looking back, I don't think comparison was the real issue in my experience at church. It was just a symptom. Underneath it was disappointment. Underneath it were expectations I didn't even realize that I was still holding onto. And that's, that's something we can learn from this, that maybe comparison isn't actually the problem. Maybe it's just what disappointment sounds like when we haven't made peace with our unmet expectations. Did you get that? Maybe it's just what disappointment sounds like when we haven't made peace with our unmet expectations. I think this is a thing that we don't say. It's a whole lot easier to compare our real life to the life we imagined we'd have than it is to grieve the one we thought we were going to live. I was comparing myself to the person I thought I'd be by now. Once I started doing that, everyone else's life suddenly felt like a measuring stick. And if you know me, you know I'm pretty short. Um, okay, my jokes suck. Um, here's something we don't say. Our expectations of ourselves often compete with what I believe is God's purpose for us. One is driven by performance, the other one is shaped by purpose. Um, I don't know if y'all-- If you follow me on Instagram, you've probably seen me share some stuff before. Um, have you ever listened to Raising Boys and Girls podcast? It's just, it's so good, and partly because so much of it lines up with what I experienced working with kids and families for years, um, but also because sometimes Sissy Goff, she's one of the co-hosts there, she says some things that follow me around for weeks. And so this is one of those things, especially as I prepped for this episode. But, um, she was, she was talking about a camp that she did with third and fourth graders and after spending some time with them, she realized that so many of them were really asking two questions. Or these, these, um, this idea just centered around two main things, and it was this: Am I loved? And do I have purpose? Purpose. Third graders. I don't know why that surprised me, but it did, because I'm 40. I'm 40. So in my early 20s, I started blogging, and I think I mentioned it before, that was kind of the thing that you did back then. I guess now it's evolved into Sub Stack and hey, guess what? I'm starting a podcast. Um, but one of the things that I got into the habit of doing back then was writing a birthday post every year. And I'd sit down, and I'd reflect on where I'd been or where I thought I was going or what God was doing and what I hoped he was doing. Um, and so prepping for this episode, I did something that I haven't done in a really long time, and I went back, and I read them. And oh my gosh, 25-year-old Nicole, mm, that blog post is now password-protected on my website. Um no, but seriously, there's, there was a picture of me, and I'm holding this piece of paper that says, "Goodbye 25." And I remember taking it. I had on this bright red lipstick, and I had dramatically kissed the piece of paper so that it could just look symbolic as I just kissed 25 goodbye, and I would throw it away. Because apparently I was really committed to ending my quarter-life crisis. And I remember her. I don't remember every single detail, but I remember she was really sad, and she was sitting there, and she was thinking, "What am I gonna do with my life?" I had just come out of this weird relationship. I'd been working at a different church, but I knew I wanted to experience more of the world outside of church, not away from my Jesus, but outside of His church. And so I decided I was gonna apply for grad school. I knew that I wanted to go into counseling, and so I applied to grad school. Um, and suddenly I was so excited about what my life could become, and I saw there was all this possibility in front of me. And so I thought, "Okay, cool. Well, let's see what came up next." And so I skipped over year 26, and I jumped to 27, and I started the blog post referring to one of my church moms. And um, I have these church moms. I just realized I introduced church moms, so I have to explain that in a different episode because I truly think every person needs one. But, um, so I, so I started off this blog post, and my church mom had said to me, "Well, dear, where are you? Do you have your computer? Can you go write?" And she, she knew that I had all of these thoughts, and so I was like, "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea. Okay, I'm gonna go write." Um, but first I had to think through everything that was happening, right, so that I could get the things we don't say. Um, so, so I was at the beach with my family. It was like 25 of us in one house. It was very dramatic, and so I put on my tennis shoes. I went for a run, and I finished my run. I had my phone with me, and I was standing there catching my breath, and I remember it. I took this picture of me standing in the waves, and they're crashing on my tennis shoes just completely soaking them. Um, and I remember standing there thinking, "I am ready to write." So I ran home, I grabbed my computer, and I walked back down to the beach, and I wrote 27 different graces of God. That I'd experienced that previous year. And I remember sitting there, I was watching the waves crash on my feet, and, the soaking shoes there sitting right next to me, and I remember thinking, "Man, I see it. I see where my life is going, and it's all because of God's grace. I'm gonna be a counselor. I'm gonna get to work with people again. I'm gonna build them up. I'm gonna help 'em see the good that's happening around them when they feel like nothing else is." And I felt like I could see my purpose with all this potential in the world, right? And that's so exciting. Okay, so now I'm invested, and I pull up year 28, and here I am, another relationship, totally in love. Trey's gonna listen to this, and he's gonna be like, "Why are you always bringing up these other relationships?" And you know what I'm gonna have to tell him? It's because every single one brought me to you, and not one of them could have prepared me for the type of love that I was gonna have when I met you. Um, okay, sorry, I didn't mean to get all sappy there. But I'm reading this, and this man, he read my writing, and then he identified me as a writer, and nobody else had ever done that for me before. And so as I read this, um, now as almost 40 years old, I remember then thinking, "What? I'm not a writer. I'm a blogger. Totally not." Um, but man, he was right because I am a writer. I just had this conversation a few, I don't know, maybe a couple months ago with Trey, my one true love. And he asked me, he said, "What would you do? What would you be doing right now if you weren't, um, you know, if you weren't staying at home with the kids and doing all this homeschooling?" And that was kind of when this, like, podcast dream was just kind of circulating in my heart. And I said, "You know, I really hope that I would've been writing. I don't even know what I'd be writing. I just know that I'd be writing." And so now I look back at that 28-year-old me. She thinks she's in love. Someone just called her a writer. She thinks she knows where her life is going. And here I am sitting at 40, and I can see the things that she couldn't. She thought she had purpose and that it was grad school and that it was counseling and that it was a ministry. But she couldn't see the microphone. She couldn't see the podcast. I don't even know that podcasts were a thing back then. But she couldn't see all those hours sitting alone and writing words because she couldn't not write them. She couldn't see that they were becoming something. Um, yeah. Listen, I don't wanna turn this into one of those podcasts where I tie a perfect bow around everything and say, "See, this is why all of that happened," because I don't know that. I'm still in the middle of my story, but I know that I can use it for the now. And I look backward now, and I see a thread, and I think this is another thing that we don't say. Sometimes we're so busy looking for purpose and what's next that we miss the evidence that it's already been forming in us for years. If you're younger and you're listening to this right now, you're sitting in something, whatever it is, because we all know we have it. It's hard to be in the now. But if you're older and you're listening to this, remember, we have to go through that life with the end in mind to realize its potential. If I could sit across from that 25-year-old girl now, the one that was so dramatic kissing that quarter-life crisis goodbye, if I could do that, I don't think she'd be disappointed in me at all because God was already stirring something in me where we could see it, and he was saying, "Hey, look, we're gonna do something with this." If I could sit across from that girl who was like, "Man, my life sucked," and show her, "Hey, in a couple years, you're gonna be excited for what's to come," and then just a year later to say, "You're gonna sit in that contentment, and you're gonna see that your writing has purpose." I just don't think that that Nicole would be disappointed in my life that didn't follow the path that she thought it would Actually, no. She probably never thought she'd be working at another church or that she'd leave it. She'd probably be shocked. She probably would have some of the same questions, but I think she'd be proud because every one of those versions of me brought something with her, and maybe that's what I couldn't understand when I looked in the mirror this morning. I didn't fail to become her. She's part of who I've become and who I'm becoming. And so those two questions that we just talked about, am I loved and do I have purpose? Yeah. I can look back now and answer both of them confidently. I was loved then, and I am loved now by a God who has carried me every step of the way. And I wanna talk about purpose here for a minute. I know that I have purpose. Um, doing this podcast brings out a vulnerability in me that I didn't know existed. And so when I prayed about doing this, I fully submitted it all to God, who is my audience of one. so like what does that mean, my audience of one? It means the only person, the only being that I'm here to please is Him. He's the only one that I want to glorify in all of this. However if one person can listen to this and have a different perspective or feels inspired or walks away feeling connected, then I know that I have had purpose and that God has used me. And so I'm gonna go on a ledge here and guess that, yeah, we all have asked at some point some version of this question. It's just being asked in a different way we don't usually ask, "Am I loved?" We ask, "Am I enough?" Or am I doing this right? Am I valuable? We don't usually ask, do I have purpose? We ask, am I behind? Or did I miss it? Or does what I'm even doing matter? So here's where it gets uncomfortable for me. I'm, I'm like, I'm really good at filling our calendars, and filling... okay, that's one thing. I- let me go back. I'm really good at managing the calendars. We all have our own color, and if you looked at it, it's like this rainbow exploded, and there's sports and emails and podcasts, and so-and-so's babysitting, and answering texts during our family dinners. Not super proud of it. Um, how much attention do I actually give my own heart? There's a book in the Bible called Proverbs, whether you've read it 100 times or you've never opened a Bible before, there's so much wisdom in it. And there's one verse that stops me in my tracks every single time I read it, and it says this: above all else, guard your heart. For everything you do flows from it." So think about that for a second. Everything flows from it. My expectations, my comparison, my yeses, my relationships, my decisions, my words, it all starts in my heart. And then I realize something. We've spent a lot of time paying attention to everyone else's life, and that's okay because people have value and dignity. We've talked about that already. But we pay attention to what they're doing, where they're succeeding, but how much attention have we been giving to what's happening inside our own hearts? Because God already knows our hearts. The question is, do we? And maybe that's where God begins revealing his purpose, not by chasing it, not by comparing ourselves into it, but by letting God shape our hearts first. So lately, my prayer has become this: God, help me choose your purpose over my expectations. Because if my heart is where everything flows from, that's where I want him to begin. People are watching us just like we're watching them, right? Everybody has this story. We've talked about that. But eventually they're gonna see what really captivates us. Will they see someone captivated by purpose? Or will they see someone who's distracted by performance? If the people I love watched my life long enough, what would they say captivates me? You know that Rodan and Fields cream? It was never really the point. Um, the point was that if I just did enough, I'd finally become who I thought I was supposed to be. But my wrinkles, they never needed fixing. It was my heart that needed the attention. Maybe that's what God was showing me all along, not how to become the person I imagined I'd become, but how to become the person that He was trying to form. And so my prayer changed. "God, help me stop chasing the version of myself that I invented, and help me become the person that you created me to be." I wanna be so content with where God has me and so excited about where He's taking me that comparison loses its voice, and His voice strengthens His purpose in me, because that's their story, and this is mine. Uh, so I have one more question, and I can't stop thinking about it, what happens when someone else's story seems to be going really, really well? And that's where we're gonna go next week. Now that I've embraced my story, how do I celebrate yours without feeling like it's taking anything away from mine? If you think someone else needs to hear this today, would you send this episode to them? And if you haven't already, I'd love for you to follow the podcast so I can see you back here next week and continue the conversation. I'll see you then. At its heart, The Things We Don't Say is about helping people recognize that there's always more going on beneath the surface of everyday life. It's about paying attention. It's about meaning. It's about beholding the bigger picture hidden inside ordinary moments. Because often, the things we don't say reveal the things that matter most. Thanks for listening