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I sometimes look in the mirror and think, “Weren’t you supposed to make something of your life by now?”

It might sound mean — but it’s one of my tamer negative thoughts.

I try to think of all the things I’ve accomplished and the friends I love, who I know love me back.

It’s not that I’m not grateful — there’s just this boulder in my path that I keep coming up against again and again and again. And I can’t quite figure out what to do with it. Do I demolish this boulder, or just keep facing it, over and over again?

In some ways, I’ve definitely separated my self-worth from my resume. Someone recently used the phrase “divorcing my self-worth from my resume,” and I really love that.

The positive assumption is that I can feel good about myself, no matter what I’ve accomplished externally. But on the other side of the coin — I can also feel bad about myself — no matter what I’ve accomplished.

There was a point in time when, looking back at testimonials, comments, and kind messages from people telling me how my writing and my coaching have affected their lives would instantly make me feel better. Just the other week, one of my oldest friends sent me the sweetest text about how she always feels lifted after spending time with me. Last night, I found an old Facebook message from college that someone I don’t know very well sent me after seeing my first play, FINE.

I know the tangible, measurable impact I’ve had on people’s lives, and I’m so grateful for that. Acts done for others are never entirely altruistic; we’re human, and we feel good when we help people.

And yet, sometimes that feeling fades. We wish we could do more. We wish that we could have a larger impact. We wish that our own luck could change. We wish that our lives could change the way that other people’s do.

At least that’s how I feel.

I’ve made friends with envy (often confused with jealousy), and I’m now pretty quick to identify what I’m longing for when I see someone with something that I don’t have. There are times when I’m somewhat proactive about my envy and take steps to figure out how I can move closer to what I want. But sometimes, I succumb to the “why not me?” feelings, as we all do.

Why don’t I have a brand deal? Why don’t I have kids? Why didn’t I meet the love of my life in college?

Eventually, the ‘whys’ grow more accusatory,

Why haven’t I paid off my credit card debt? Why haven’t I written another book? Why did I stop acting? Why isn’t my house cleaner? Why am I such a slob? Why do I let the dishes pile up?

Why haven’t I “made it”?

Are there tangible things I’m supposed to be doing that I’m not? Am I supposed to do more positive affirmations? Should I cleanse my house?

I don’t have any answers or cures. I never do. I’m just here to write the stuff that I’d like to think we’re all thinking — to help myself (and hopefully you) feel less alone.

I do know, logically, that I have “made something of my life” regardless of what my brain tries to tell me.

I feel kind of haunted by the reality that I have no idea how much time any of us have left on this earth — and that thought makes me feel really grateful and really disappointed. I know that at 30, I have a lot of things that people go their whole lives without. And I also feel pretty far from a lot of my goals and dreams. I have no idea how far I am from achieving them. I like to think that everything I want is right in front of me or just around the corner. And then I find myself crying to my therapist, and wondering if there are just some dreams that aren’t meant to be mine. Is it time to give up some of those dreams?

It’s painful to write that sentence. I picture my younger self asking me that. Picturing my