Perhaps one of the most overlooked privileges is not wealth itself, but having enough margin in your life to respond to reality. Over the last few years, we have become fluent in the language of privilege, speaking easily about financial privilege, pretty privilege, racial privilege, passport privilege, educational privilege and social privilege, and in doing so we have become increasingly aware that people do not all start from the same place and that some doors open more easily for some than for others. Yet there is one form of privilege that seems to receive far less attention, and that is the privilege of being able to do something with the information you have, not simply knowing, but acting, because the truth is that information alone changes very little. We like to imagine that if people only knew better, they would do better, and entire industries are built around this assumption, from self-help books and documentaries to podcasts, awareness campaigns, public health initiative...
"I am right on time for this version of my life."
There Is No Better Life Waiting
Your everyday routine is your life.
Not the life you fantasize about, not the one you keep pushing into some distant future where all conditions are ideal—no. The one you live now. The one with packed matatus, deadlines, Nairobi traffic, laughter in the kitchen, and evenings where nothing goes as planned. That’s the real one.
The lie we are sold—on billboards, in pulpits, by motivational speakers, and even in well-meaning family advice—is that there is a better version of you that you will arrive at someday. That you must endure now so you can enjoy later. That you must hustle, sacrifice, dim yourself, and delay joy until you’ve earned it.
But what if there is no shiny, perfect version waiting at the end of your journey? What if you are not here to become someone else—but to become more of yourself?
Who Is This "Better Version" of You Anyway?
This version we keep postponing—who defined them? Was it your parents’ unspoken hopes? Your church? Your peers? Your social media algorithm that keeps showing you people who seem to have figured it out?
Maybe this ideal self—the richer, thinner, married, healed, successful you—is a collage made up of every pressure you’ve absorbed but never questioned. Maybe that person doesn't exist.
In Kenya, we glorify perseverance. We postpone joy because we’re always preparing for disaster. We learn early that rest must be earned. That dreams must be shelved for duty. That if you choose yourself too loudly, you're selfish or unserious.
Here’s how we do it:
We stay in soul-crushing jobs because “hii ni kazi ya serikali.”
We ignore mental health because “ni stress tu, itaisha.”
We raise children while forgetting to raise ourselves.
We shrink in marriages, workplaces, churches—places where we’re meant to expand.
We convince ourselves that our passions can wait. That our soft selves can wait. That our true selves can wait.
But for how long?
This Is It. This Is Your Life.
You will not wake up one day and become someone else. You will not magically find more time, more energy, more certainty.
Your life is happening now—in your choices, your conversations, your silences, your routines. And because that’s true, how you go about your routine matters.
Do you wake up with dread or with intention? Do you allow joy to visit your day, even briefly? Do you notice beauty, even in ordinary things? Do you ask questions of your spirit, not just your salary?
Because your life isn't waiting for you. It's unfolding with or without your permission.
Maybe It’s Not About Becoming Better
Maybe it’s about becoming more honest. More present. More you.
Maybe this life isn’t about self-improvement as much as it is about soul-remembering. Maybe every heartbreak, illness, rejection, slow day and moment of joy is shaping the version of you that’s meant to live beyond this world.
Because one day, the body will die. But your spirit? That goes on.
What if all this—this traffic, this routine, this joy, this pain—is practice for the next life? What if you’re already building the next version of yourself right here?
Are you spiritually rich—or are you broke but looking successful? Are you nurturing your soul—or only your CV?
Because the spirit doesn’t care for your accolades, your degrees, your awards. It remembers how you loved, how you showed up, how you healed, how you forgave, how you listened to its quiet voice while the world screamed at you to hustle harder.
Questions Worth Asking
What version of myself have I been putting off for “someday”?
Who told me who I need to become—and do I still agree with them?
What would it look like to live as though my spirit mattered more than my status?
Am I spiritually bankrupt—or have I been slowly building a quiet wealth no one can see?
What would happen if I gave myself permission to begin again—here, now, as I am?
Final Thoughts
This is your one wild, beautiful, complicated life. Stop waiting for conditions to be perfect. Stop postponing yourself. Stop outsourcing your becoming.
You are not behind. You are not too old. You are not too late.
You are right on time for this version of your life.
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