Embracing the Messy Girlwhich may mean embracing chaos
When I was younger, I distinctly remember being a messy kid, which is to say that I was also someone with a vivid imagination and loved creating things. Fast forward to my teen years—after tons of conditioning, trauma, and messy family dynamics—and organization became an anchor for when life felt out of control, and I had too many emotions that I didn’t know how to feel. Heck! How many of us were lucky enough to be allowed to feel and express the messiness that is emotions? It was easier to intellectualize—which essentially is the same thing as having one of those tag creator things, adding a label to feelings, or trying to “control” something outside of myself in order to avoid dealing with the mess.
Because somewhere along the way, many different adults made me feel shame for the mess of my emotions—to which I understand was a projection of what they probably felt inside as well. The need for control comes from a very deep and very raw fear of not being able to deal with something. I felt the need to control my diet, my weight, my thoughts, my personality, and my space in order to feel like I was allowed to exist—as if taking up space had to be done in a certain way, or else it was a reason for shame. This created a prison inside my head, a lot of OCD, and a real distaste for certain things that would generate big, uncomfortable emotions inside of me.
Some psychiatrists believe ADHD comes from trauma. I wonder if it’s a result of being suppressed so much in the way we express ourselves in this world that it creates discomfort with certain situations, emotions, etc., if we are not allowed to express ourselves freely? Almost like a rebellion for all the years the world tried to squeeze us into a space that was never big enough for our movements, our ideas, our feelings? Just curiosity.
Regardless of my ADHD, my OCD (which I don’t have a diagnosis for)—which I believe is a symptom of my unresolved trauma with expressing who I am and allowing the messiness of life to just be—I’m coming to a point where I’m so tired of trying to control, anticipate, organize, and make it perfect that maybe my younger self is screaming inside of me to just let it all go and accept that life is messy. That there are big feelings, big hopes, and losses, and that nothing makes that much sense—or that sense really depends on the person giving it.
Yes, we can rely on science and philosophy. Yes, my degree was in Philosophy because of this desperate need since I was little to understand—what the hell is life? Why do people seem to take it so well? Who invented these rules that made me feel so anxious throughout my life, and why do I believe I need to follow them? The same way diets, strict exercise, or anything strict, for that matter, don’t work without a side effect of excess later on—yes, I’ve seen all the school friends with strict parents and how well that went (not)—demanding control and strictness of life is starting to feel like a recipe for burnout and disaster.
Yes, we can be disciplined, which basically means we are willing to accept certain levels of discomfort in exchange for something, but I think we have now exacerbated and glorified that even for things that don’t bring us joy. Example: If I like to do something, I will dedicate the time and effort; if I don’t, I won’t. It should be that simple so that we are in flow with our own inner compass instead of this insane pressure to be something that is not even what we want to be—just because someone felt uncomfortable with our difference.
So here’s to me going back to my natural state of messiness and letting go. Accepting that life is messy, it’s chaos, it creates big emotions, but it is also where I find beauty. Not beauty defined by someone else, but what beauty means to me. Because these years I tried to keep it all together made me sick, miserable, and completely disconnected from who I am. I owe that to myself. I think we all do.
Have a great week! 💜
Francisca