A Time for Beautiful Messes and Insane Freedom

“You just ripped your mask off, threw on a pink tutu and you’re jumping in the middle of the road during rush hour under a neon sign! What I mean is you are putting your thoughts out there for whoever to see. It’s inspiring!”

A friend sent me this text recently, after I started this blog and decided to be transparent. It’s actually pretty dead-on when it comes to my state of mind lately.

And that’s not a bad thing.

When I first started writing out loud in blog-land, I planned to keep it at arms length, sharing it with only a handful of people. If someone happened upon it, great. If not, that’s ok too. I went by “Leia” instead of “Thalea” because that was SO incognito *eyeroll AND facepalm*

I wrote about tearing off masks and then laughed with my friend about the ridiculousness of my state of hiddenness and anonymity.

One night, during an Indian food dinner and a revelationary talk with a friend, I had a a moment where I asked “WHY am I hiding this? Why do we hide ourselves from each other? This isn’t my secret; it’s my LIFE! And right there, over my Grilled Chicken Tikka and naan, I decided I’d had enough.

Enough with the shame

Enough with the tidy appearances

Enough with the anxiety

Enough with this prison of secrecy I had resigned myself to

Enough with always wondering “do they KNOW?”

Enough with feeling “less-than”

Enough with the SILENCE.

So I put on that damned pink tutu, wrote A Time to Air the Laundry that night, and after hovering over the “post” button for well over an hour, I publicly announced my separation on Facebook the next morning. 

It was SO freeing.

I am a beautiful mess. My life is a beautiful mess. I’m eyeballing a sweatshirt that has “beautiful mess” written on the front. I’m going to buy it and wear it over my imaginary pink tutu. It’s ok. Beautiful Messes don’t need to match.

There will be nose wrinklers. I can almost guarantee that there are people who get scrunchy when I post my wayward ramblings, and others who will refuse to look at all. There are those who will get angry, and more who will simply ignore me.

It is what it is. I am learning who the sticky people are, the ones who love me even if they disagree with me, even if they secretly think I’ve gone nutty. It’s actually refreshing and appreciated, to know where people stand. I am learning how to love those who do not love me in return, who judge, and how to let go of the need for their approval. I’m not TOTALLY there yet, but it’s a journey and it’s ok to be navigating this in baby steps at times. Even if we think differently, we all belong to each other. Even if we can’t stand each other right now, we’re all here together. 

It’s all growth, and it’s all relevant.

At the end of the day, I am writing because writing means finding my voice and using it. Even if it feels pointless, even if no one reads it. What matters is that I spoke at all.

Sometimes freedom looks like insanity to others. And that’s ok. Everyone doesn’t need to understand. God is there in the middle of it all; He understands the most. And all the others who need to see and get it, my kindred beautiful messes, the wreckiest wrecks, the ones who choose to allow the pain in, will understand too.

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