Embracing the Magic: A Love Letter to the Mess
There’s an art to avoiding projectile vomiting in an Uber, and let me tell you, it involves a gripping internal dialogue and a steadfast commitment to the mantra, “Do not throw up.” The other day, en route to my body coach, I found myself in this less-than-ideal situation. Nausea gripped me in the back seat, and my temple throbbed ominously. Deep breaths and a focused gaze out the window were my survival tactics. Miraculously, I made it to my coach’s office sans any undesirable incidents—cue the #winning celebration.
As I settled into the session, the nausea had retreated, leaving behind an intensified headache. Clearly, my body was attempting to communicate something profound. I was all ears but required some expert coaching to decipher and integrate these cryptic messages. This is where the guidance of a coach shines—the ability to navigate the labyrinth of emotions and unearth the gems hidden within.
As the coaching unfolded, I sensed a pivotal insight dangling just beyond my reach. We delved into the roller coaster of parenting, my highs and lows over the weekend, and my recent failure to choose kindness with my spouse, Kelly. The persistent trigger of messiness reared its head again, despite my year-long commitment to embracing the “messy.” An assignment was given: redefine messy and practice it in action. I felt a mix of annoyance and excitement; hadn’t I conquered this already?
Yet, as the conversation meandered, a nagging feeling persisted. The golden nugget, the profound insight, remained elusive. The session neared its end, and I summarized what I had gleaned so far: “The way I’ve been showing up with Lucy (my daughter) is not the way I want to parent. I don’t want to nitpick her constantly about being messy.” And then it hit me—a revelation that brought tears to my eyes. The way I’ve been parenting Lucy mirrors how I’ve been parenting myself. The self-critical lens, the intolerance for messiness, laziness, or failure—it all surfaced.
Doubled over with the weight of this realization, I acknowledged that this wasn’t the parent or self I aspired to be. The tears flowed as I recognized the undercurrent of self-hatred that had been operating beneath the surface. I had been harshly judging myself, invoking self-hatred whenever I fell short of my perceived perfection. It suddenly became evident that my actions had changed over the past year, but my beliefs hadn’t. The stickiness I’d been feeling was the wrestle between old beliefs and new actions.
The heart of the matter revealed itself—I had been parenting myself and Lucy with hate. The realization was tough, but the first step to transformation is awareness. I could now see it, and I could choose differently.
Underneath the messiness was an under layer of self-hatred that had eluded my awareness. Despite giving myself permission to embrace the messy, I was simultaneously judging myself for it. It was like allowing a kid to play in the mud and then scolding them for getting dirty—an internal contradiction that had been sabotaging my self-love journey.
The solution dawned on me: it was time to revisit messy in an entirely new light. Leaning into messy for a year wasn’t enough because I had been judging myself for it. Now, I saw an opportunity to truly embrace the mess, to approach it with love instead of self-hatred. The pieces fell into place, and I chuckled at the irony—I was currently revising a book I had written, titled “The Magic is in the Mess.” I initially believed the magic lay in creativity, writing, and pursuing passions, only to realize that the true magic—the love—resided in embracing the mess, both within and without.
As I reflected on my journey, I recognized the invitation to redefine messy with love, to cultivate a relationship with myself based on acceptance rather than self-hatred. The magic wasn’t about avoiding messiness; it was about transforming how I related to it. It wasn’t about the sugar or the mess but about embracing them with self-compassion.
So, here I am, standing on the precipice of a new chapter in my self-love story. The journey involves rewriting the narrative of messy, turning self-criticism into self-compassion, and embracing the magic that comes with imperfection. The real magic, I’ve discovered, is not just in the mess but in the love we extend to ourselves amidst the mess.
And as I embrace this newfound perspective, I extend an invitation to others to join me on this transformative journey—where the magic of self-love unfolds not despite the mess but within it.
