In the midst of a mindless scroll the other day, I stumbled across one of those overly-atheistically pleasing and inspirational squares on social media that seem to take your feelings right out of your soul and blast them on your screen. I can’t remember exactly what it said now, but it read something along the lines of “while you’re doubting yourself this much, other people are looking at you and wondering how you do it all so effortlessly.” It’s a beautiful message, in theory. The concept that people see us as grandiose beings strutting about life making it all look easy while our only and harshest critic is ourselves is banal. The idea behind this concept is that we should feel empowered by the notion that others think we can juggle all of life’s challenges in a flawless, simple manner. I began to reflect on how often I have looked at people in my own life and thought “if only I had it all as together as they do” or “why are the same things that are seem to be so easy for them are so difficult for me?” What’s even crazier is that I have tortured myself with these ideas wishing I had a handle of things the same way that they do. If only I could be a little less like me, and little more like them.
“You’re doubting yourself, meanwhile other people are looking at you and wondering how you do it all so effortlessly.”
And while these are the same people I’ve (unknowingly at times) held in my mind to these impossible standards, I’ve also held them in my arms as they’ve wept and crumbled under the weight of a thousand unreasonable expectations. I’ve held them in my arms as they’ve confessed to me that they felt nothing they did was ever good enough. And there I was, thinking they were larger than life anyway.
What I’ve come to learn — as someone who feels on a daily basis that she is juggling more things than any one person should and at the same time also that she is not doing nearly as much as she should be — is that I don’t want anyone in my life to “wonder how I do it all so effortlessly.” The last thing I want to do is promote a message of toxic productivity or let anyone believe that things come naturally and easy to me or should come naturally and easy to them as well. They don’t. Every single person you encounter in your life is truly fighting so many internal battles you know absolutely nothing about. It does not matter how put-together they seem on the outside, how great they are at their jobs, how well they’re doing in school, or how picture-perfect their life seems to you. It’s just not. Life isn’t meant to be picture perfect. Life is raw and messy and chaotic and for some reason we’re trained to hide all of those things away and display only the good things proudly.
We don’t document the fight and the sacrifice it took to get to where we are; we only share that we made it. Everything from point A to point B is a mystery to those on the outside. It’s not only harmful to the people we love and even those we don’t to let them believe that we don’t struggle, it’s harmful to ourselves too. There is no shame in struggling. There is no shame in admitting that some things you have to work twice as hard for because they either require that much work or simply because you’ve been brave enough to take on a task that doesn’t align with your talents. You should be proud that you carry all that you do and that it is difficult to do so and yet, you persevere. Sharing, truthfully, the weight of all that you carry with others should only assure you and them that you can both do difficult things. It’s a privilege not everyone gets to have — to have people to lean on while struggling.
As someone who struggles with relinquishing any small piece of my independence, none of these things are easy for me. I find myself more often than not actively avoiding asking for help by all means possible. I do it all myself instead of delegating tasks that could be delegated; I feel the only way everything is under control is if it’s under my control. I know that I can do it all on my own, and I struggle to understand that being able to do it on my own and having to do it on my own are not the same. So, I write this for every single person who has ever said to me “I don’t know how you do it.” Honestly, neither do I.
Most days after opening the fifteenth spreadsheet, I want to throw my computer across the room because my literary-oriented brain hurts trying to organize hundreds of pieces of information in number form. I cry for a good while, and then I try again. Other times, I am constantly thinking about where I have to get to next and crossing off a mental to-do list. I can’t help it most of the time, but regardless, it leaves me carrying a world of guilt on my shoulders. Looking back on moments and wishing I’d been present in them. Sometimes it feels like so many things are pulling me in so many different directions, that I end up dropping the ball on what matters the most: making sure the people I love — the people who carry me — know that I love them and that I want to do the same for them.
Other days, I snooze my alarm six times, miss my first class, and am five minutes late to work because my body is over exhausted from running around trying to put out fires day in and day out. Or, I am completely drained from staying up late trying to do the work of multiple people all on my own — because I don’t know when to ask for help or even how to accept it when it’s offered to me. I also carry the guilt of lacking in school even for a second, well knowing the sacrifices that have been made to get me to where I am. I get frustrated and I lash out and say things I wish I could take back to people that I love and respect who don’t deserve it, they just happen to be in the line of fire when things start crumbling down. I have nightmares about things that I didn’t get to check off my to-do list the day before and most mornings I wake up so anxious I can’t speak the first two hours of the day until I’ve gotten into a groove of productivity that makes me feel like I deserve to feel at peace.
When I get home at the end of a long day and my friends all cheer as I walk in the door, they ask me how my day was because they genuinely want to hear the grimy and uncomfortable details just as much as they want to hear about my wins. From them, I know I’m worthy of friendship and forgiveness no matter what I got to accomplish that day or what got away from me. When my mom drops off groceries on Monday mornings and ten tupperwares filled with food because she wants me to be healthy and knows I don’t have time to cook, I know I’m worthy of sacrifice, no matter how productive or unproductive I feel I am. And when I call my best friends, who live a thousand miles away, and I apologize for harping on the same things day in and day out, they sit there and listen for the millionth time and offer nothing but support and validation. From my village, I know I’m worthy of love.
All this to say, there is bravery in sharing that the things you carry feel unmanageable at times. That you are where you are because you’ve sacrificed bits of yourself, and that doesn’t make you more or less than anyone else. There is no shame in asking for help or accepting it, people around you want to support you. They see you. It is unrealistic to compare your journey to someone else’s who has never lived a day in your shoes and you’ve never lived a day in theirs. These pills are hard to swallow and it’s hard to unlearn all of these harmful ideas that letting others see you struggle is a sign of weakness. It’s something I’m still learning to be comfortable with. It’s okay that you feel the people around you have it all together. It’s okay that there are not enough hours in the day to be as productive as you’d hoped; there’s always tomorrow.
Know that while you’re doubting yourself as much as you are, people are looking at you in awe that you’re able to carry everything that you do, aware that it takes a huge amount of effort, struggle, and sacrifice that you try your best not to let anyone see and are so amazed that you do manage it all anyway.