We often talk about goals as if they exist on a universal schedule. From the time we’re young, we absorb unspoken expectations about when things should happen: graduate by ___, build a career by ___, marry by ___, peak professionally by ___, retire by ___. None of this is written anywhere, yet these “life scripts” quietly shape how we judge our progress and, more dangerously, what we allow ourselves to want. And in a culture fascinated with youth, we begin to equate timing with value. If we haven’t done something by a certain age, we worry we’re behind… even when our lives feel meaningful and full.

The pandemic reinforced this sense of urgency in unexpected ways. Hours spent on video calls led many to scrutinize their appearance, sparking a surge in cosmetic procedures and anti-aging products. But this wasn’t really about vanity. It was about relevance. Looking younger became a proxy for staying competitive.

Beneath the surface was a deeper anxiety: If youth equals potential, what does aging say about our goals? Our society doesn’t just measure achievement. It measures when achievement happens, and those expectations can distort what we believe is still possible for us.

Comparison only intensifies this distortion. Nothing derails a goal faster than looking sideways. We compare our timeline to someone else’s without any context for their starting line, advantages, or invisible struggles. A deeply personal aspiration can quickly feel inadequate when placed next to another person’s highlight reel. Suddenly, what once felt exciting feels “small,” “slow,” or “late.” Maybe it is because we’re chasing someone else’s pace, not our own.

And........

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