I spend my time in this space collecting moments. I’ve expressed my adoration for the countless sunrises and sunsets, gratitude toward my morning runs and my ability to appreciate the ordinary, whether it is picking out vegetables at the grocery store or basking in solitude. A large part of this practice is innate and chosen. My gaze is focused on dovetailing into the seconds of my life, honoring the beauty of each moment and acknowledging this grace by saying, “Thank you.”
But there are countless times when I don’t feel like I have it together. Last Friday, I hurried toward my daughter’s school, running late, missing an important luncheon. When our eyes met, I saw her tears. The what if’s darted across my mind, “What if I left earlier? Why didn’t I check the traffic? There was an alternative route – why didn’t I opt to take this road?” The point is, I didn’t do any of those what if’s and ultimately disappointed my daughter. She got over it quickly, as children usually do, but these seconds ticked in a way where my emotions weren’t together and I was not honoring the gratitude in this moment. I realize it’s a minor infraction, a first world issue, but what if there are several of those kind of moments? What then?
In the last few months, I’ve experienced hurt feelings over various situations. I may come across strong, but I am porous. I’ve always felt things, deeper than I reveal. I am not a moody person, so I choose not to broadcast these emotions. My overriding philosophy is to make an effort to believe in the best people have to offer. My default is kindness, but lately, I am wondering if this is a weakness. Do the offending parties feel any of the hurt I am experiencing? Are they even thinking about what I am feeling? Do they care? These are of course inquiries which lead to the abyss of speculation, a place where you can continue to circle for countless moments and never receive an answer. It’s in those periods, where consternation, doubt and sensitivity reign. And not one of those places make me feel like I have it all together. It conjures up one word: impostor.
Oh, the countless moments of self-doubt. The manuscript which is still undergoing revisions. The publications in which I don’t have a byline. The few extra pounds which, I fear, will never melt away. All of the questions that make a life – Am I a good daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend or person?” Do any of us feel like we have it together? It’s an inquiry which solicits uncomfortable feelings and a vulnerability difficult to excavate.
I’ve come to realize I am less than zen in many areas of my life. I don’t have the answers. I fumble over and over, never quite keeping the momentum going in the way I intended. The cadence speeds up, I lag behind. I hesitate saying whether it’s “good enough” – Can I even say it out loud? The growing mantra, is, yes, it is good enough. But, I am here to say, some days living a haphazard life doesn’t rise to level of my expectations. I don’t feel together. And it isn’t enough.
I have the option of shrugging my shoulders, saying it doesn’t matter, but I’d be lying. All of it matters. Maybe that is why I am here today, not highlighting flowers and asking that you pay attention to what is in front of you, because some days it’s difficult to harbor this kind of gratitude. I’ve always believed, to be swallowed by any emotion requires you to acknowledge the spectrum of every feeling, even the seconds that make you feel uncomfortable and gnaw at you piece by piece.
So you heard it here first, I don’t have it together. But maybe this is the point.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
I don’t either. Sing it, sister. xox
This post was hard to write and difficult to publish. Thanks for making me feel less alone. xo
Have you seen that viral video going around recently: how to tell you’re a hot mess mom? I don’t think you have to worry about that, Rudri!
I haven’t seen the video, Luanne, but I appreciate your vote of confidence. xo
Hear, hear. I don’t have it together either. I’d like to believe that if we’re questioning whether we’re good wives, daughters, mothers, sisters, then we already are, aren’t we? And of course, there’s always room for growth. That’s life!
That’s a comforting thought, Tamara. I will keep that in mind when I question myself. xo
Oh, Rudri, is it strange to say you had me with the title of this post? So many posts on Facebook and beyond seem to broadcast the opposite, which makes this burst of honest reflection so welcome and appreciated. I am often overwhelmed by my (little and big) failures. I see each one as a mountain instead of what probably is more like a bump. I agree with Tamara, in that, if we’re already conscious about wanting to be better or try harder, then perhaps we’re right where we are supposed to be. Very glad you posted this.
I am glad you found some comfort with this piece. There is an over amplification of how glossy people’s lives appear to be and I allude to some of that in my post. I think we all have those days where nothing works and we don’t feel our best. Honoring those moments are important to help appreciate the more gentler periods in our lives. I believe we have to stay true to both. xo
I so hear you Rudri. One moment I have it all and the next I fail so badly. When it comes to the core which matters to me the most I can’t let it go and lose my zen and not allowing the universe to guide me. It is like climbing 10 steps and fall over 6. But we will start over again, don’t we?thank you Rudri.
Starting over is the best hope, isn’t it? Thanks for offering your perspective, Vani.
I loved this post, Rudri. None of us have it together, and we manage to be falling apart a bit in so many different ways. I do think that’s the point — we can’t do it on our own, we have to rely on others – for help, for kindness, for forgiveness.
The other thing this post made me think about was personality typing — I’ve been reading a lot about the Enneagram and Myers Briggs types lately. Have you ever looked into that? It might help you work through those feelings about “do other people even feel the hurts I feel?” and that sort of thing (spoiler alert: probably not). There are lots of free tests online, but 16personalities.com is a good one, then there are stellar Personality Hacker podcasts about each type. Anyway, perhaps this is a bit random, but that’s where my mind went this morning!
Sarah,
I am a huge fan of Meyers Briggs and have consistently been classified as an INTJ. It is a fascinating look on how a personality type governs so much of how we think, feel and react. I suspect I am in a highly sensitive period right now and I hope to work through not letting those feelings land so hard. Thanks for your insight. xo
Oh, you are so not alone, Rudri; you are “simply” human. I can relate to all of this all too well (I could write an autobiography on this very theme!), and I am toughest on myself when it comes to my ‘failures’ in parenting – raising my voice, reacting too much…everyone around me tells me, “Stop beating yourself up” and I always have a (silent) comeback, which is that I cannot allow myself to lower my standards. But the one advice I’ve taken and have become better at adopting is, “Be kind to yourself.” Somehow that I can understand – I tell myself to be kind to others, so why don’t I include myself? I think that those difficult moments – when we miss appointments, run late, make the wrong choices, etc. – can be reminders or signals of things we need, like a breather or some other break. <3
C,
It is always lovely to see your name in my space. I miss you! Being kind to yourself is great advice – I often lose sight of that mantra when I am in certain moments. Thanks for the reminder and insight. xo
I’m certainly right there with you, Rudri! I hardly ever have it together. I hope you feel freedom in being honest and not a bit of shame. I love reading honesty. It makes us all sigh, “me too”, which is the most comforting place to be. I think we are way too hard on ourselves. Being perfect is impossible and we are constantly disappointing ourselves when we try. But it is possible to always be kind!! You’re doing that. And you do that well!!
Thanks, Ker. You always know the right words to help me through difficult moments. Miss you. Hope to see you soon. xo
I admire your honesty and loved this post. I don’t have it together either. Every day I wake up and just try to do the best I can.
Yes to doing the best that we can . . . that is essentially all we have in our control. Thanks, Amy.
I totally get it. This has been one of those weeks I haven’t had it together. It has been one of those weeks where I’ve reacted when I should have paused. It has been one of those weeks I haven’t tried my best or looked for the good when I needed. I mean, I’ve found moments of gratitude and joy, but I’ve had to search for them. I’ve disappointed myself probably as much as I’ve disappointed others…but like you, those aren’t things I usually put out there; I work them out inside me.
I am glad to hear I am not alone. I hesitated publishing this post, but I am happy I did. It appears so many feel the same way. Thanks for sharing your perspective, Susan.
Joining in to add to the choir of ‘me neither’. Thank you, Rudri, for clarity, honesty, being vulnerable in a way that makes all of our vulnerabilities more just a part of living. So often I’ve confused ‘perfection’ with ‘enough’ thinking nothing was enough until it was perfect which becomes a very tyrannical attitude toward life. I am so into questions right now. And into how asking the ones that come from deep within and shaping the question itself into a reach for what I desire can lead me forward in the directions I need and want to go.
Thanks, Lisa, for adding your voice. I’ve been a life long perfectionist and it’s taken time to wade through the complicated layers of that label. I am still trying to work through it. Asking questions is a great way to shape our arc and lead us into new directions.xo
Xoxo
Thank you, Ayala, as always, for your love and support.
I love every single word in this post. Thank you for sharing your vulnerabilities with us. I have been struggling with balancing all of my roles and responsibilities recently and feeling like I’m not doing “enough.” Your words really resonated with me and validated that it’s ok to not have it all together. We live and learn and try to do better, and it’s ok.
Nice to “see” you here, Kathy. Cheers to embracing what is instead of focusing on what isn’t! Love to you and the family.
I definitely do not have it together and that imposter syndrome can be so strong some days! And it’s so easy to assume that everyone else around me does. Thank you for sharing this.
Christine,
Thanks so much for your voice of support and also sharing this piece as a part of your Friday roundup of posts. So honored!
Congratulations Rudri on not ‘air brushing’ your life to match your high hopes and expectations for your life. What the world needs more of is this type of honesty and humility.
Aww, Kathie. What lovely words. Your kindness means so much to me. xo
I tend to doubt people who claim they have it all together. I think those people just lead unexamined lives. For type-A / recovering perfectionist-overanalyzers like us, there will always be a misplaced or missing piece, that impostor syndrome plaguing us and a sense that our worlds can fall apart at any time. (Well, at least for me.) Keep jogging/walking/running, writing, being the good parent that you are and most of all, keep the honesty. I’m pretty sure the world needs more honesty than perfection. There is growth in one, none in the other. xoxo
I needed to hear your perspective. Thanks for making me feel less alone. xo