Jen’s Beauty Life

Tuesday/13/1/2026

People often say, “Don’t compare your life to others.”
I understand what they mean.
But living without comparison is far harder than it sounds.

Especially when so many of the people around you seem to be doing well.

Some of my friends now live lives that feel far removed from mine.
One of them is the mother of a K-pop boy group that has become globally famous. We were once soulmates. Today, we live on completely different levels of life.

In Sydney, owning even one home feels almost impossible — yet I have friends who own several.
I still drive a car that’s nearly twenty years old, while others regularly upgrade to the latest European models.
Some friends go on multiple cruises every year, as if it’s simply part of their routine.

I’ve worked steadily since my early twenties.
I rarely stopped. I truly believed I was doing the right thing — working hard, being responsible, staying committed.
But when I look back now, there are moments when it feels as though I’ve built nothing tangible at all.

Comparison exhausts me.
Yet when I try not to compare, I often feel isolated — as if I’m slowly drifting away from the world around me.

As lives become more different, distance grows naturally.
We meet less. We talk less.
And sometimes, it feels like I’m living on the edge of a world I no longer fully belong to.

I am deeply grateful for my family.
I have a husband who has always stood by my side, loving me without conditions.
And now, I also have two grown sons who look at us with warmth — who gently pat my back and remind me, in quiet ways, that I am not alone.
When I think of them, my heart aches sometimes — not from sadness, but from tenderness and gratitude.

Life isn’t simple.
Even after turning fifty, I still don’t fully know how I’m meant to live.

I move through each day quietly, doing what needs to be done.
I show up. I keep going.
But life itself is not gentle, and it is far from easy.

Perhaps this is what life really is.
Not clarity, not certainty — but learning how to stay present while carrying unanswered questions.

I don’t have the answers yet — but I’m still here, still trying.