If you have ever seen the popular movie, "What Happens in Vegas" with Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz, you know that Diaz plays a role where the woman is a planner. She plans to make plans, and when Kutcher’s character yells at Diaz's that "she plans to make plans," it triggers the emotion felt from when her ex-fiancé broke up with her and said that very thing. That’s me.
Hello, I’m the girl that has a list for everything.
I’m OCD about every last detail and until recently stressed about one hair being out of place. I’ve recently given into the mess and here is why.
Life is messy. I’ve spent my entire life trying to organize it, fix it, clean it, and ultimately control it. Unfortunately, I can’t do that. In the end, I have to take everything in stride and enjoy the ride. So they say. I’ve learned to let go. I’m trying to see the big picture. Maybe there is life after a list? Maybe.
If you’re like me and you dust your ceiling fan and headboards more than you let your hair down, chances are you’re constantly as stressed as I am. Why? Because the rest of humanity doesn’t seem to care about the things that I do. They don’t realize the effort that goes into intricately planning every last detail. They love to leave things up to “fate.”
I can’t control fate, that mysterious and elusive belief everyone has. What I can control is my life. I can control the cobwebs under the bed. What I do, when, and where. My friend group, yes they are all vetted. My wardrobe, fashion has been my obsession because you can control how you present yourself. Down to tailor making myself to fit what I want for me. I control me as if I’m something to be controlled.
I’ve always dressed super preppy. I want to be above the mess. Feather T-shirt’s and boho clothing have never been my thing. It never looked “put together” enough for me.
That’s the thing. I never knew what was enough. I never knew I was. Whatever shape, person, mess or state I am in, I am enough.
I don’t have to push myself. I don’t have to make a list to be on a list. I am my list and that should be enough for me.
I just bought a bunch of band tees from my favorite bands like Aerosmith and Pink Floyd. I loved them growing up but I never allowed myself to represent them because I always thought that screen tees were too open. That’s beginning to change.
I liked to be distant and guarded. My control freak side has always felt like I needed to be above it so that I’m never below it. I have to sell myself if I want to ultimately be myself.
But see, I’ve never really been true to myself. I’ve been so out of touch and clean. Living my life like it’s a museum that I’ve never stepped into the real world and accepted the beauty in the crazy.
I’ve always shied away from “weird,” it’s been avoided like the plague. I’ve been terrified of it. But I’m finally beginning to realize that weird is normal and normal is what we want others to see, not necessarily what we are. Maybe normal is what we want ourselves to be. But why? Why do we exhaust ourselves to prove ourselves? And in the end prove nothing because there is nothing to prove.
Let’s stop running this rat race and realize it’s okay. I think we are beginning to do that, and empowering one another is the perfect place to start. People used to be so judged for sharing their feelings on social media sites, like, “Sharon, Facebook isn’t your diary, honey :).” Now, we take abstract and candid photos. We go on Twitter and detail how we paid for our cheeseburger with pennies.
Let me clue you in -- if age is just a number, so is my bank account because, as of right now, I’ve slept with more people than dollars in that thing (both of which remain in the single digits...). As a community, I see progress; and I’m marching along with it. Join us.
