No More Saving Life for Later

Gone are the days where the beautiful things get packaged for a later date, and this also includes the best parts of me.

It started with a candle I had been saving for weeks. Not a particularly rare one, but special enough to sit untouched underneath the console table since my birthday this past March. My friend gifted me a personalized Le Labo candle for my birthday. Its scent reminded me of the kind of feeling I yearn for, quite literally, all the time. It smelt like a partly cloudy summer afternoon, it was a calming fragrance that I couldn’t get enough of. I told myself I’d light it on a special day. Maybe after I finally caught up on sleep, after the housekeeper cleaned, after I felt more like myself. For weeks, it waited, and I found many excuses. For weeks, I waited too.

Then one morning, in the middle of an ordinary week, I paused while drafting up scripts for my monthly content and thought, What exactly am I waiting for? It suddenly felt a nudge to savor the captivating scent. I reached under the console table, placed it near my favorite vase, lit the candle, and let it burn while I went about my day. Something about lighting the candle felt like going against the grain or rebelling against my everyday intrusive thoughts. For once, it felt like I was fighting back against the parts of me that had been taught to delay joy. The parts that still believe beauty should be earned.

That small moment began unraveling a truth that I had been navigating for a while, but hadn’t yet named: I’ve been saving the most vibrant parts of my life for a “later” that keeps getting pushed further away. And I don’t want to live like that anymore.

Growing up, I often heard phrases like “don’t wear your good clothes around the house” or “save that for company.” There was always a clear distinction between what was intended for everyday use and what was reserved for guests or special occasions. Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the idea that the best of everything—whether it was a dress, a dish, or even a part of myself should be held back until the moment felt significant enough to deserve it. And if the moment never came? Then the beautiful things would stay hidden.

But I’m not interested in living a life where I’m constantly waiting for the right conditions to enjoy what I already have. I don’t want to keep delaying softness, pleasure, expression, or truth. Not in my work. Not in my home. And not in who I allow myself to be.

There’s a rust-colored dress hanging in my closet that I used to only wear on vacations or “nice days.” Every time I put it on, I felt different, warmer, more present, like the most honest version of myself had finally stepped forward. But more often than not, I passed it by in favor of something neutral. Something easier to blend in with. I didn’t want to “waste” a good dress on a day that wasn’t special. And yet, every time I reached for that comfort, I was also denying myself a chance to feel alive in my own body.

A few weeks ago, I chose differently. It was an uneventful Tuesday, and I wore the dress to the grocery store with my son. No makeup. No plans. There was no reason other than I felt like it. And as we moved through the aisles, I caught glimpses of myself in the freezer door reflections: my hair braided up, my shoulders well-oiled, the fabric of my dress moving with each step. I felt like I was walking with a woman I had been reminding myself exists if I just allowed her to be free.

The truth is, I spent years compartmentalizing myself, only bringing certain versions of me to the forefront based on what felt “appropriate.” The visionary. The nurturer. The creative. The mystic. The business-minded one. I thought being measured was mature. That offering too much of myself at once would be overwhelming or misunderstood. But withholding my full presence didn’t make me more admirable; it made me smaller. And somewhere along the way, it also made me resentful.

When we save the best of ourselves for later, we send a message to our soul that now isn’t good enough. That the current version of our life hasn’t earned the joy we’re capable of experiencing. We wait for rooms to feel safe before we speak freely. We wait for our bodies to look a certain way before we enjoy dressing them. We wait for the stars to align before we pursue what we already know we’re meant for.

But joy is not a resource that needs to be budgeted. It’s not a bonus we get for being disciplined. It’s a current available in every moment we choose to let it move through us. And the more we allow it, the more it multiplies.

I’m done waiting for the perfect moment. I’m done holding back the fullness of who I am until everything looks cleaner, clearer, or more certain. I want to light the good candles now. To cook the nice meals now. To speak the truth now. I want to bring the best of me into the spaces I live in every day, not just the ones that feel worthy of it.

Gone are the days when I reserve softness for when I feel strong. Where I silence my wisdom until I feel “qualified.” Where I hold my creativity hostage, waiting for an imaginary version of success to say, “You can begin now.” I have already begun. And what I have to offer deserves to be seen, lived, and shared in real time, not packaged away for later.

Because later is never promised. And even if it was, why would I rob myself of the beauty that’s available right here?

I believe many of us were taught that waiting is a noble act. That restraint is a sign of strength. But I’m learning that presence is stronger. Showing up for your life, even when it’s messy, uncertain, or quiet, is a different kind of courage.

So this is me choosing now. Not as an act of urgency, but of reverence. Not because I have everything figured out, but because I don’t want to miss the moments that are already sacred simply because I’m waiting for more impressive ones.

This version of me, the one who burns the candle on an ordinary Tuesday, who wears the dress just because, who lets joy live in the small details, is not frivolous. She is free. And I believe that my freedom is worth everything.