True hilarious story: For some reason, which I assume is because I must be good at hiding the shitstorm that is my life, people really think that I have my shit together. This idea, which is hardly founded in reality, probably comes from the fact I’ve successfully kept a child alive for almost nine years, I have a good job, a nice home, a car, and - perhaps most miraculous of all - I have a great relationship.
But I do not, in fact, have my shit together.
I almost never know where my car keys are, even though we have a dish where the car keys are always supposed to be placed when we get home. The fact that I’ve not yet lost my security badge needed to get in and out of the office is nothing short of a miracle - but it’s only been five weeks. THERE IS STILL TIME.
My kid yells at me, I yell at him, and I regularly forget to send things that are required for school with him, sometimes for days and even weeks on end. Whoops. Sometimes his entire lunch box is packed with packaged crap like a granola bar and a Fruit-Roll-Up. Sometimes I give him plain white minute rice because, honestly, I can’t be bothered to make anything more and even if I could I don’t have time because SOMEHOW I FORGOT THAT HE WOULD NEED A LUNCH ON A TUESDAY.
I am always rushing. Always. Even when I get up with two hours’ worth of extra time to get ready, the final 15 minutes before I leave the house will inevitably be a meltdown complete with running up and down the hall, hiss-shouting, and a frantic search for something - probably my keys. I can manage my time exceptionally well unless I happen to be in the comfort of my own home, apparently.
I leave the house frazzled, usually sweaty, and regularly without deodorant, which is why there’s three sticks of it at my desk. Why three? Because I kept forgetting that I had one and either brought or bought a new one. I can choose scent based on mood, if needed, and for some reason I have a pair of socks in my desk drawer too. I’m 90% sure they’re mine.
We won’t even talk about my inadequacy when it comes to things like finances, directions, and basic car maintenance. Did you know your Check Engine light comes on when you’re nine weeks overdue for an oil change? IT’S TRUE. (You’re welcome. Also, go get your oil changed.)
Also, the two dents in my car? They’re like the cherry on top of my non-shit-togetherness sundae if you ask me. And I didn’t even cause them.
I’m overwhelmed with guilt and a weird sense that I’ve somehow misrepresented my life when someone tells me they think I have my shit together, instead of taking a second to think that perhaps I do, at least kinda, have some of it neatly piled. Impostor Syndrome slides into my mind reminding me of all my inadequacies each and every time someone says I’m doing well.
What would I need to accomplish to feel like I’ve got my shit together? Would I need to have a perfectly clean house? No more hangnails and ragged cuticles? Better hair that doesn’t have 1.5” of roots grown out because I’m too lazy to get touch ups? A better home or car? If I’m totally honest with myself (ugh), the truth is I probably won’t ever feel like my shit is as together as someone else’s.
Fortunately, I’m reminded by my amazing friends and colleagues that none of us really have our shit together. I mean, at least, not all the time.
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