Why do we admire people who juggle multiple things – careers, kids, active social life, 2nd jobs, volunteering, etc. all while dealing with chronic illness, aging parent issues and a hangnail ….?this is lunacy – feels like a special place in hell to me. Feels like distraction from inner demons – which is mistakenly cast as an amazingly productive and envied existence!!!
Seriously tho, As If is where it’s at. Looking like you have your shit together is the balls- we envy others that make life look so easy. But the concealing part, having to hide any sign of struggle or sweat – looks like a shit ton of work…
Being all things to all people. This feels insane – who gives a frogs fat ass if others think we are ￼succeeding or failing? Who gives a shit? We’re all just holding ourselves together- together, barely. The pressure to arrive with a smile, early, poised, full of grace and with a platter of chocolate chip cookies from scratch – a Good Housekeeping, Martha Stewart, Brady Bunch wet dream. A beautifully crafted lie.
SOMETHING is suffering – our kids? Our self care? Our sanity? Our credit cards?What’s this love affair with appearing perfect and flawless while we cry and tantrum behind closed doors? “I do everything for everyone and I’m still miserable.” “Just make the pressure stop, I can’t carry on like this” I call this my plastic life, my 1950’s housewife- Mommy Dearest/Betty Crocker suffocating, fabricated fabulousness.
The old knowing is overdue. The knowing that what we do or what we blow off does not, ultimately, define our worth. Even if we do nothing or occasionally handle everything, we are still worthy of love. Somewhere deep inside of ourselves WE KNOW without a doubt, that we ARE ENOUGH and nothing has to be done to prove that.
Let’s step into THAT …cause honestly? No-one will ever notice and gush over us the way we NEED them to. Especially NOT the crowd we’ve trained to take us for granted!!! This is an inside job. Help is not going to arrive from external sources. Turn some of that love, time and energy inward.
But until we live this in our core, we continue to agree to far too many things, spend ridiculously on diets, wardrobe and stylists – feeding the “I need to be more” Piranha who is insatiable for the blood of our best efforts. So let’s step onto dry land, together. How bout we stop pretending that we have out shit together. How bout we manage to utter a real statement for a change.
“I am a beautiful human mess” or “I’m a mess and I’m alive” Slow things way down, step out of the race, retire your #, hand in your uniform and take a seat on the bleachers as they are pretty empty rn. Being a spectator is hard work at first but I have confidence in you.