I’m a hot mess.
On the outside, I look like I’ve got it all together. I use a planner to plan out everything in my life methodically. I take notes in class. I do my assignments weeks in advance. I do my hair and makeup every morning. I keep my room spotless. I leave for work 15 minutes early. Somehow, I’ve found a way to plan and control every aspect of my life.
Except one: my emotions.
No matter how many to-do lists I make, I can’t plan for when I’m going to breakdown. I can’t pencil in time to have an anxiety attack or schedule a date on my calendar to feel depressed. I do everything I can to stay in control, but my emotions don’t follow a schedule. They arrive uninvited, not when I’ve made space for them.
It’s taken me a long time to accept the hard truth that although I’m able to control the way my life looks, no amount of planning or organizing can control how I feel. No matter how hard I try, I can’t predict when I’m going to feel heartbroken. I can’t prepare for a bad day that seems like it’ll never end.
I used to perceive this as a character flaw. I believed that being highly emotional was a sign of weakness. I thought that being so put together on the outside would make up for my unpredictable emotions. Recently, I’ve realized that this part of me that I hated so much is what makes me human. Emotions aren’t supposed to be organized. In fact, they are meant to be messy.
So yes, I’m a hot mess. And no, I’m not ashamed of it. I’m never going to apologize for letting myself feel my emotions. If being a mess means that I’m someone who lets herself take the time to feel and process her emotions, then I’ll gladly accept that title. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think that being emotional makes a person any weaker; in fact, I wholeheartedly believe that it makes them stronger.
My emotions remind me that I can’t control everything in my life. Sometimes I need to close my planner, ignore my calendar, and let myself process what’s going on inside my head. It’s okay to be vulnerable and to take a moment to slow down and feel things. In fact, I think that vulnerability shows my true strength.
I have no reason to suppress my feelings in order to be seen as “put together.” Maybe I’m not so put together after all, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Even if I am a hot mess, I’m not ashamed about it. The messiness doesn’t make me any weaker; it makes me real.