If you’d asked me growing up what I thought my life would look like at 38, I reckon I could have given you a pretty clear answer.

I’d be happily married by now, probably celebrating my 10-year wedding anniversary. We’d be living in a four-bedroom house we’d renovated ourselves, complete with an island in the kitchen. We’d have at least two children, I’d have built a career in advertising, and if you’d asked me what happened after that, I’d probably have said something about buying a bigger house.

You know, the standard life plan.

I’ve always been someone who likes a plan. I like knowing what’s next. I like working towards things. Growing up, having goals gave me comfort because there wasn’t much certainty around me, and I think part of me believed that if I worked hard enough, I could create the life I wanted.

So I made lists. In fact, if you’ve been reading this blog since the early days, you’ve probably seen a few of them.

I set targets.

I always had a rough idea of where I was heading.

What I didn’t plan for was travelling.

The Start of My Travels

When I first went travelling at 25 (and started this blog), I wasn’t setting off on some Eat Pray Love journey of self-discovery. I was completely burnt out and looking for a way out of the life I was living.

At the time, I was working in what I’d always considered my “dream job”, but I was exhausted. I’d regularly leave for work in the morning and still be there very late into the evening. Looking back, I was probably trying to prove I deserved to be there because I wasn’t convinced I did.

I’d also been with my boyfriend for 4 years. He was a genuinely lovely person and we had a good relationship, but something wasn’t quite right. Looking back now, I think we were starting to want different things.

The big travel trip itself was actually his idea.

He wanted to travel around Europe with a friend. I was very much on the fence about it, but I also thought it would be nice to see Southeast Asia, visit China because of my heritage, and spend time with one of my best friends who was living in Xiamen at the time. So we agreed we’d travel separately at the start and meet up later in Vietnam.

A week into the trip, it became pretty obvious that wasn’t going to happen.

I can still picture sitting in a hostel in Xi’an having a blurry Skype conversation that changed everything.

And just like that, my relationship was over.

At the time, it felt like everything was falling apart.

What I didn’t realise then was that it was actually the start of a completely different chapter.

The months that followed were incredibly hard. Heartbreak has a way of making you question everything. Not just the relationship itself, but all the plans that came with it. The future you’d imagined. The life you thought you were building.

But because I was already out there, I had no choice but to keep going.

I navigated unfamiliar places. I met people whose lives looked completely different from mine. I made decisions for myself. I changed plans when I felt like it. I got lost. I asked strangers for directions. I learned how capable I was when there wasn’t a carefully constructed plan to lean on.

For someone who had spent most of her life focusing on what came next, it was quite a revelation.

I wasn’t just seeing new places.

I was learning how to trust myself.

The Rebuild

Travel doesn’t magically fix everything.

I’ve cried on planes, almost booked flights home, made questionable decisions and had moments where I’ve wondered what on earth I’m doing.

After another particularly painful breakup years later, I moved back in with my dad in Milton Keynes.

I don’t think I’ve ever fully admitted how difficult that period was.

I’d come back from travelling through India, Nepal and Sri Lanka feeling completely lost. I’d had my heart broken, my plans had changed again, and despite everything I’d learned about myself over the years, I felt like I was starting from scratch.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I saved money.

I rebuilt myself.

I somehow managed to be a bridesmaid three times in one year.

Eventually, I bought my own flat, decorated it exactly how I wanted, and slowly built a life that felt like mine.

Not a temporary stop before the next thing happened.

An actual home.

And all the while, I kept travelling.

I’ve walked the Inca Trail in Peru, explored South Africa’s Garden Route, welcomed in New Year alone in Malta, seen sloths in Costa Rica and fallen completely in love with Sydney. It somehow became a second home for a while and a place I still think about far more often than I probably should.

I’ve also returned to Italy so many times I’ve genuinely lost count.

Because somewhere along the way, I realised not everything has to be about chasing the next thing.

Sometimes you want to explore somewhere new.

Sometimes you want to sit in the Italian sunshine, eat an unreasonable amount of pasta and go somewhere you already know makes you happy.

Both are equally valid.

Actually, I think that’s true of life as well.

The Women In My Life

For a long time, I measured my progress against the life I’d imagined for myself when I was younger.

If I wasn’t married by a certain age, if I didn’t have children by another age, or if I wasn’t ticking off the milestones I’d expected, it was easy to feel like I was somehow behind.

Behind who, exactly?

I’m still not entirely sure.

The older I get, the more I think we spend a lot of time chasing a version of happiness we’ve inherited from other people.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d still love to fall in love again one day.

But I’m no longer looking at my life as though it’s on hold until that happens.

Because somewhere along the way, I realised I’d already found people to do life with.

They’re my friends.

The women who’ve seen me through heartbreaks, career changes, questionable dating decisions and everything in between.

The people I’ve messaged from airports, hospital waiting rooms and bathroom floors.

The people who’ve celebrated promotions, home purchases and birthdays.

The women who’ve sat with me through breakups, encouraged me when I’ve doubted myself and somehow always seem to know whether I need advice, a reality check or just a large glass of wine.

Some of the biggest moments of my adult life have happened alongside those friendships.

Honestly, female friendship is probably a blog post of its own because I don’t think we talk about it enough.

We’re surrounded by stories about finding “the one”, but some of the deepest, most enduring love I’ve experienced has come through friendship.

The people who know every version of you.

The people who show up.

The people who stay.

That’s a pretty incredible kind of love too.

Where’s Walton Today?

When I look back at the things I’m most grateful for, very few of them were things I could have planned.

The friendships.

The opportunities.

The lessons.

The person I’ve become.

None of those things appeared on the life plan I imagined when I was 18.

And yet they’re the things that matter most.

At 38, my life looks very different from the one I expected it would.

I’m not married and I don’t have children.

I don’t live in the imaginary family home with the kitchen island.

But I’ve travelled across the world, and I will continue to. I’ve built a career I’m proud of. I’ve bought my own home. I’ve met incredible people. I’ve created friendships that feel like family. And I’ve built a life that, whilst not always perfect, feels very much like mine.

I still make lists and plans because, let’s be honest, that’s unlikely to change any time soon.

I still have places I want to see, things I want to do and, yes, I’d still love to fall in love.

But I’m a lot less attached to the idea that life has to happen in a particular order.

Because when I look back, most of the best things that have happened to me weren’t planned.

They came from the heartbreaks, the wrong turns, the unexpected opportunities, the flights I almost didn’t take and the moments when life went completely off script.

At 18, I thought happiness would come from following the plan.

At 38, I think happiness comes from appreciating the life you’ve built, even when it looks nothing like the one you imagined.

Because when I look back, the things that have shaped me most were never the things on the list.

They were the people I met, the places I almost didn’t go, the heartbreaks I somehow survived and all the moments life quietly took me in a different direction.

And honestly, I think that’s turned out pretty well.