I thought I was "behind" in childhood, teens, early, mid, and late 20s. Attempted CTB on my 30th birthday, wow that was like a year and a half ago. The way I live now, well I don't really live now, living in any sense feels alien and unreal. When I attempted CTB, my body reacted to the symptoms and pulled itself out of the attempt. My mind did not stop the attempt in a race of thoughts about actually wanting to live. When I realized I was still alive, in my circumstance I did not feel any negative thinking like I had failed or something. I tried to die, I wanted to die, maybe I did die. But for whatever reason, I just so happen to exist after the fact. Did I live and not die? Did I die and some incomprehensible quantum mechanical fuckery conjured me 100 multiverses to the left of where I existed before, in an alternate timeline? Who knows, not me, existence is a cosmic horror that I don't think has any understanding itself of what it is. So, it doesn't matter what truly is the case, because all I can do is just deal with existing if that my condition. The way I think now, is that I don't see being alive as aligned with or deviated from any particular narrative. Of course I have a history, my story, what has led up to where I am now, but I've stopped thinking that being alive needs to be any particular way. Living without narrative is more enabling for me to more autonomously strive for things, if I want them, but without the attachment that those things must occur. In my instance, this has happened because I had abruptly cut off all past relationships. No more family, no more friends, no more people, who at least in my mind I would struggle with my own interpretations of what they hope for me, want for me, expect of me. No more narratives of others will occupy my mind space, so I got rid of it.
Sorry, it's been some time since I thought about this, my incoherent rambling haha. There are no true paths I guess. Some lives are disproportionately happy it seems, some incomprehensibly painful, some are anywhere in between. Life is what we experience and how we respond to those experiences I suppose.