You came to my house last evening. I welcomed you in. I offered you a drink. Among the mess, we sat down on the sofa to chat.
It wasn’t that many years ago that this simple act of friendship would have sent anxiety coursing through my veins. I was acutely aware of the mess around us.
You can see my kids’ rooms are messy with toys about the floor. There are dirty dishes in the sink and the carpet could use another vacuum to remove massive amounts of dog hair.
There is dust on my ceiling fan blades. It actually looks more like the blades have grown fur. I admit, I wish I had cleaned them before you stopped by. No worries, I did what any self-respecting woman would do…I turned on the ceiling fans as to disguise the dirt on the edges!
In years past I would have vacuumed every inch of my house, cleaned the bathroom (why is there a shoe on the counter?), and loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher…and of course, wiped down the ceiling fans before your visit.
Back then I was so worried about doing it all, doing it perfectly, I wasn’t living an authentic life. It was the fake, Martha Stewart way of doing life. I was fueled by the accolades you gave me, whether it was for the fabulous birthday party I planned, or the compliments when you said, “Your house is always clean.”
I wanted to do it all because that signaled that I had it all together. When really anxiety was ruling my head. I was so concerned about hiding the mess that I forgot to live life.
The real me has dust on the edges; and if I want you to know me, really know me, then you need to see that dust.
Life is messy. And if you have kids, it’s really messy. If we are honest, my friend, we are all messy.
In today’s world it’s not easy to admit that we can’t do it all every single moment. We shouldn’t compete with the glossy styled homes pictured in magazines; or the Pinterest food too pretty to eat; or our fabulous Facebook friends. We are only seeing what they want us to see.
I want to know the real you too. Mess and all. Let’s live this messy life together. That’s the honest, messy truth.