|In Vegas. In a clean dress.|
There's this thing that happens when you start to figure out who you are.
You stop apologizing for it.
Or, really, if you're like me, you apologize for it and then resent the shit out of that apology. Next time. Next time you will not apologize.
For being messy. Or disorganized. Or for needing to talk about something repeatedly.
Because all of those things, they are part of who you are as a person. And though knowing who you are isn't some blanket excuse to be an asshole, it does mean you don't have to live to please other people. Because you've spent time creating you. Cultivating the things about yourself that are awesome and well, accepting the things about yourself that aren't. With a one line disclaimer that yes, you will work on the not-so-great things. Or at least you will be aware of them.
I've held on to a great deal of anxiety in my twenties when it comes to who I am. Am I kind enough? Do I give enough? Am I a great girlfriend, friend, daughter? Do I work hard enough at my jobs? Am I good enough?
ENOUGH with the enough. It's exhausting.
I have a friend in her 30s who has told me on repeat how you will reach this point where you're just...you. And the people or things in your life that don't fit you as you are will begin to fall away. Instead of trying to be everything to everyone, you become the person you're meant to be. The people that are supposed to be there with you, will be.
But, I've had a paralyzing fear when it comes to the ending of relationships. If that person no longer wants to be in my life I have failed. I could have been better. More caring. More giving. A better listener. And maybe that's true. But maybe it's not. Maybe it's kind of awesome -- that we ditch the people who don't get us and stick with those who love us just as we are: in the stained dress I picked up off the floor, late to dinner plans that I had to cancel two other things to get to, complete with a restless mind and needing to talk about the same insecurity I struggled with a year ago.
The thing is, at some point if you don't stop apologizing you'll never stop. You'll never be enough for everyone so you just have to be enough for you. You have to love the crappy things about you because who else will?
Next time I'm not apologizing. I've spent 25 years figuring out the mess that is me, and hey, jack ass, I like me just fine.