Being real in an unreal world.
I’m getting a divorce.
There. I said it. Or wrote it, anyway. Not sure the medium (see what I did there?) makes it any less terrifying. But it was time to put it out into the ether.
I do my best to be honest and authentic with my experience as a woman and a human, but I’m not that good at it. I feel compelled to appear strong and capable at all times. I can own when I’m wrong or ignorant, but still I try to spin my story. I feel compelled to control my own narrative. I obfuscate the struggle, the confusion, the loneliness. I tell my story as though I know what I’m doing, where I’m going, who I am.
It’s bullshit.
I have no idea what I’m doing. Or little idea anyway. At least now, I have my eyes open.
Still, I’m groping in the dark. I’m trying to calm my nerves, slow the pace of my breath, and absorb the sensory input around me. And I’m hoping that over time, the darkness will be a little less scary.
Here I am, 34, about to divorce, letting go of a life I have spent years building and believing in. I’m clinging to ideas that I have about who I think I am, who I want to be, where I want to go, what I want to be doing. At the same time, I’m questioning every last one of those ideas. I’m trying to understand which belong to the real me and which belong to who I thought I should be.
And I feel dumb.
I feel lonely in this place of not knowing, of simply searching for what comes next, of what might fulfill me. I look around me and it feels like everyone KNOWS who they are and what they want.
I read story after story of people with a dream and a drive to make it happen and I don’t understand. All I can think is: “why not me?”
I am working so hard to let go of the need to have it all together or to be impressive. Rationally, I can embrace the beauty of the journey, the discovery of who I am and what I want in this life. But fuck, it’s a lonely journey. I have moments of panic and anxiety, overwhelmed by feeling behind my peers.
But I think about the people in my life that inspire me and man, it’s not the ones that have it all together. It’s the ones that don’t.
The inspiring ones are complicated. They’re the humans navigating the complexity of life not the ones who have chosen a simple and direct path. They’re the ones trying and failing and trying again. And yet managing to do it with grace, dignity and authenticity.
Those people and their stories make it easier to get up in the morning and face the day. Those are the people that make me feel strong and inspired and human.
Where are their stories?
I look through social media and I feel bombarded by the carefully curated public personas. Everyone seems to have their own well-defined brand. Their own personal elevator pitch.
People don’t feel real to me. Even people I know.
No one talks about struggle unless it’s part of a redemption story. No one talks about the hard stuff when they’re going through it. No one talks about confusion or contradiction. We only share when we’ve come out the other end and are able to summarize the experience in a pithy commentary on life or entrepreneurship.
And I appreciate that. I do. Truly. I find those stories of inspiration, well, inspiring. I like hearing about how someone turned something tough into something beautiful or fruitful. But I’d also like to hear about the people just going through the shit. Before they’ve learned motivational lessons or turned a tough time into a billion dollar idea.
I want to hear the stories about people that don’t have it all figured out. I want to hear about the people that are taking life day by day — exploring, experimenting, trying new things, being open to the outcomes, curious about the results, eager to learn and grow.
I want to hear about the days when it all feels hopeless, but you show up and do your best anyway. I want to hear about the grit.
That’s what it all comes down to. The grit.
The ability to stick with it, commit to this journey of life no matter how shitty it gets or how overwhelming it becomes. When you don’t have all the answers. When you maybe don’t even know what you want, but you keep trying. You keep searching. You keep living. And you do it with honesty, integrity and an open heart.
Those are the stories I want to learn and those are the stories I want to tell.
And so I begin with myself. This marks the beginning of my commitment to shed my facade. To shake off my veneer of sugar-coated bullshit. To start talking about my confusion, my loneliness, my fear. And I’ll also talk about my hope, my aha moments, my joys. Because the complexity of our experience is what makes us human. And it’s what makes any of our stories honest ones.
Welcome to my honest story.
