It's OK to Be a Mess
The one about not having it all together.
I'm a firm believer that the universe sends you signs. That when there's a specific message you're supposed to receive, you'll see it/hear it multiple places. Like the universe wants to be sure it doesn't miss you.
This past week, that message for me has been that no one has it all together. That a lot of people may look like they're executing their lives flawlessly, easily, perfectly, but... they're not. Nope. Everyone's a secret hot mess, deep down.
It’s popped up everywhere — in workout classes, across social media, and even in re-runs of one of my fav shows:
“We got nothing to worry about. Everybody has their moment… we don’t need to have it figured out right now. Our moments will come.”
((If you've never seen "New Girl," please stop everything you're doing and watch it ASAP; I have watched the series all the way through two or three times by now, and it never fails to make me literally laugh out loud — I love it.))
I digress, but reminders that no one has it all together, or knows what they’re *supposed* to be doing at any given point in life (once you’re in your 30s, etc.), have been wallpapering my days, without me even seeking them out. Maybe it’s something I need to hear, without even realizing it. Who am I to argue with the universe.
Being a mess — all of us, being messes — has always been my favorite thing to write about. Because… we are all messes, in some shape or form. I mean, I’m firmly in my mid-30s now and I still have no idea what I’m doing most of the time.
That used to worry me. It doesn't anymore. (Well, not as much.)
I used to think I was weird for always feeling like I was forever slightly askew. Messy buns, rushing around in the mornings before work (who are these people who can sit and peacefully read a book in the morning??), living room filled with dog toys and discarded boxes from online shopping orders, dishes in the sink. At work, I tried to always be on — answering emails as quickly as they arrived in my inbox, kicking myself if I couldn’t make it to the bottom of my to-list in a day. Striving for perfection far before platforms like Instagram told me it was expected. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s a result of the chaos of the last few years and the layers that grief have peeled off of me, but I no longer strive for that level of perfection. I still want to do my best, sure, in all areas of my life, but I know perfect is not possible, and it doesn’t even have the same allure anymore. I’ll get there when I get there, you know? For all of us, our best looks different every day, maybe every hour, and that’s okay. We’re all trying, and I know I have written about this a lot, but showing up — that’s where the bravery is. That in itself is an act of defiance, showing up as 100% yourself in a world that constantly tells you that’s not enough. That you’re not enough.
(You are enough. You always have been. You know that already, I hope.)
Anyways, my point here is that everyone is kind of a mess, in some way or another. And that’s okay, and also perhaps it’s kind of the best thing. We’re in it together, just trying to figure out what the hell we’re doing.
Social media has done a bang up job of trying to convince us that that’s not actually the case, painting these perfectly curated images of people that are frankly not real. They’re planned and Photoshopped, just glossy, ongoing highlight reels that seem to head into overdrive when the holiday season approaches. For the most part, all we see are the best sides of everyone… The #1 parents with their gorgeous and well-behaved kids. The entrepreneurs who are hustling and knocking every goal out of the park. The couples who seems to have it all together, impeccable Christmas decorations and beautifully staged holiday photos to boot. Like who are these people?
And hey, maybe there’s an element of truth to all the posts that look like they were air-dropped out of a magazine spread — who knows! I guess it’s possible. What I do know, though, is that without a doubt, that’s not the whole story. It’s never the whole story. Everyone has struggles, no matter how well they may hide it. Everyone has chinks in their armor. Even the folks who share their hard days only as a lesson for their internet followers — highlighting the meaning they’ve found in their tough times, the triumph in their tragedy. That’s very nice, certainly, but sometimes… sometimes things are just really difficult, and there doesn’t have to be a socially acceptable way to present that. It’s very easy to gloss over pain or awkwardness or insecurity in an Instagram caption, to only put forward the images where everyone’s smiling and your skin looks perfect and your hair’s done. Very few are sharing the moments when they’re feeling hopeless, or just got dumped, or are realizing they hate their job or want a divorce.
No one has it all figured out, and gosh — what a relief! It’s not just me. It’s not just you. It’s all of us, this holiday season and beyond.
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I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, with hopefully less Spotify Unwrapped posts littering your Instagram feed. Kidding, sorta… I kind of like seeing those, honestly, and in case you’re wondering, yes I am in Taylor’s Swift’s top 2% of fans according to Spotify.😹 If you’re looking for something to listen to this weekend, well, how about this song, which I apparently listened to enough times to make it my #1 played for 2022. (It’s not Taylor, surprisingly.)
Thanks for reading!
Joelle
Fellow mess here! That’s for reminder, showing up is enough ✨