I slipped behind the steering wheel and sighed. I glanced at the back seat littered with cheerios, granola bar wrappers, crumpled old church bulletins, and miscellaneous Lego pieces.
I’d offered to drive, but clearly hadn’t thought this through. There was no time to give the car a quick once-over; we’d be late. I needed to leave now, so my car was destined to remain in its current far-less-than-perfect condition.
I brushed a few crumbs off the seat she’d be occupying, and pulled out of the driveway.
She was going to see my mess.
But something happened on the short drive to her house. I decided I wasn’t going to apologize when she got in the car. My mess was going to remain unacknowledged. Not unseen, not ignored, but accepted as the honest way I live my life.
I’ve been making strides in my quest to give up perfection, but there’s still that sharp pain in the chest when I entertain the idea of people actually seeing the real me. I’m not one of those moms who keeps her home tidy, but I’ve always been the one who tidies up before anyone comes over.
I’ve been letting that go. Though I’ve been working hard to improve in the housekeeping department, it’s because it’s genuinely something I want to improve for myself and my family, not because I’m worried about what other people think.
But despite my efforts, things still get messy. That’s just the real, honest truth of my life.
It might be because I’m lazy. It might be because I’m busy. It might be somewhere between the two, but the truth of the matter is – this is part of who I am. It’s not my favorite part, but it’s an honest part.
And I’ve decided it’s not a part I need to apologize for anymore. I don’t need to make an excuse for it, or blame my kids for it, or wish my husband would fix it, or even view it as a failure of mine.
So my friend, she got in the car. And I didn’t apologize for my mess. We just started talking and headed off where we were going. And the further we drove without it being a thing, the more my shame lifted.
Over the course of the next couple of days I had more opportunities to practice my newfound open-ness. Friends dropped by who had never seen our new home, so I gave them each a tour.
That tour included a toy room littered with {gasp!} toys, a kitchen counter with dried food and breakfast dishes, and a bedroom closet with clothes on the floor.
And not once did I apologize for them. With each room we wandered through, it became easier. I cared a little less. I was letting these people see me, my reality, not just the carefully-crafted, manufactured-messy image I wanted them to see.
It was the real messy. And you know what? They didn’t like me any less. I felt more accepted and more free. And more comfortable with who I am right now.
Real. Imperfect. Messy. Honest.
So whatever is messy in your life – whether it’s your home, your heart, or your life – let people see it, and don’t apologize for it.
It’s hard the first time. Horribly all-consuming, fighting against that urge. It’s embarrassing to be sitting there, in your mess, without acknowledging it as something that you should address. Without committing that you’re going to be better. Without inferring that you ARE better, and today is just an exception. Because you know it’s not.
It’s not the exception, it’s the rule.
But keep that apology to yourself anyway. Because the next time you do it, it will be easier.
And easier.
It might be hard at first, but the freedom that comes after realizing that people love you just as much knowing who you really are is worth the brief moment of discomfort that comes in the revealing.
Even better, you’ll probably encourage another woman in the process. You’ll show her that life can be lived in freedom and honesty without the weight of an exhausting image.
Here’s to honesty, ladies.
What mess do you need to stop apologizing for?
