I don’t know about you guys, but I always imagined and expected this magical moment when I moved to college that some sort of switch would turn on or I’d go through a “fairy godmother in Cinderella” type transformation or at least some sort of molting type incidence would occur (gross, right?) that would leave the once goofy and awkward me somewhere in the dust, with a charismatic, sophisticated me—hardly recognizable mind you—in her place, shocking the world. Well, if you’re wondering, there was no molting (thank God) or a fairy godmother or a huge transformation. In fact, within the first hour of being off at college by myself, I was in gloves, miserably excavating a trash bin for my best friend’s thrown away retainer (no kidding).

That was two years ago, and while I wish I could describe some pivotal moment in which I magically had it all together, I can’t. Mostly because I never had this pivotal moment.

But MAN, have I tried to pretend that I have. And, to be honest, my pretending to have it all together was kind of like putting a rug over a gaping and totally obvious hole in the middle of your living room or a Ninja Turtle Band-Aid on a shark bite—I wasn’t fooling anyone. In fact, walking around like I had it all together felt almost as though I was attempting to wear clown shoes on my size 7 feet and hoping that no one would notice.

But the worst part was, looking around, I felt like no one else was sporting the clown shoes. In fact, it looked like everyone else was KILLING IT in dang Christian Louboutins or something. Every where I looked I saw put together people—perfect people who had the perfect best friends, perfect outfits, perfect bodies, perfect grades…..

But, it’s not real. If we were all honest with each other, we’d all know that we’re ALL just gaping holes in the floor or shark bites. We’re MESSY. Life’s messy. And pretending we’re not all in these massive, ugly clown shoes is doing no good for anyone. It’s exhausting.

Seriously. This constant obsession with making people think we’re not messy is EXHAUSTING.

There’s freedom in messy. There’s freedom in genuine. And every time we try to put a rug over the hole or a Band-Aid on the shark bite, we’re choosing exhaustion over freedom. It’s absurd.

Listen, I think it’s time to set the record straight here. First of all, messy isn’t equated with failure. If it were, we’d all be pretty much COL (crap outta luck) - we’re all big weirdos trying to find our purpose here. We’re all made with talents and passions and we’re ALL trying to find how those weave together. It’s not an easy process, and it’s OKAY to not have it all figured out. (But it isn’t okay to throw in the towel just because it got a little messy, just saying. You have too many talents to waste them being afraid of the mess—you gotta keep on truckin’, dude!) Secondly, just because you’re messy does NOT mean you’re unlovable. You were stitched together with all the characteristics you have purposefully. It’s not like you were just slapped together by a detached, careless molder who didn’t care about the quality of the end product. You were STITCHED together with a dream in mind. And if that didn’t involve a little messy, I’d say you wouldn’t be as beautiful. That’s right, I said it. Messy is BEAUTIFUL. Not pretty, but beautiful. Beautiful because it’s real and it’s raw and it’s RELATABLE. Yes, we were made to strive to be what we were dreamed up to be, but don’t expect it to happen in a day. It’s a messy, long, daily process. And anyone who tells you otherwise are A.) Lying big time or B.) Trying to sell you something.

You really DON’T have to have it all together, and you really SHOULDN’T think that you’re the only one who doesn’t.

There’s this song lyric that says, “Make my messes matter, make this chaos count.” YES. Let’s do that instead of faking it. Let’s root for each other’s messy and help each other make it count. Let’s be genuine. Don’t you think it’s time?