My perfectly planned life, a once pristine map perfectly aligned with step-by-step instructions, was now a crumbled mass thrown in a dusty corner. I never wanted help from anyone because I thought I knew it all. I wanted to figure things out for myself, even if that meant failing in the process. Well, the time has come for my failure. For rock bottom to become my new home. Unfamiliar creatures seem to lurk behind every shadow, waiting to pounce when I’m at my weakest. And I’m afraid I’m wilting like a plucked dandelion.
I feel purposeless. Not knowing that my true purpose is to be myself. I watch others succeed with envy instead of happiness. I only listen to speak, instead of truly listening. I rely on others to value me instead of valuing myself. I have a “glass half empty” outlook instead of appreciating what I was given. And some days it seems like that glass is going to wobble and crash on the linoleum floor. Little do I know, all I have to do is sweep up the mess and move on.
Now is the time to admit to my failures. To admit I can’t do it all on my own. Admit to myself that I pushed away the people I loved most. Pushed them just far enough along the borders of my own selfishness that I could reach them when it was convenient for me. I fooled them into thinking my plans on being independent were actually working. Fooled myself into thinking that what I was doing was actually succeeding. But success means nothing if you don’t have anyone to share it with. I burned the people I loved most with my unkind words and frigid demeanor.
It was time to mend the relationships I broke. Stitching the seams together with apologies. Gluing the fallen pieces with dabs of truth. Varnishing the finished product with love I had hidden deep in drawer for safekeeping. It was time to stop defending the knowledge I didn’t have, and accept the unknown. Know it’s okay to not have everything figured out.
I turned my sorrow into motivation. Trying to make something out what I was given. I always looked forward to what my life could be instead of what it was. Always thinking about how I could only be truly happy if everything fell into place instead of being happy with how my life was at that moment. I know now that I don’t have everything figured out. And that’s okay. Admitting that is the first step in actually having it all together.
Part of life is becoming lost.
Trying different paths until you find the right one. It gives you perspective and purpose. You find out things about yourself, little by little. Your experiences shape your identity, and prepare you for even bigger challenges. Challenges you’ll welcome with open arms because your failures have made you stronger. It’s okay to feel like you don’t have it all together. No one does. And if they do, they’re very good at faking it.