I pull up to the traffic light and hit the brakes as quickly as possible, throwing the car in park, trying to maximize every second of the stop. “You cannot be late. You cannot be late.”
I grapple with my make up bag until I finally find the eyeliner. Two streaks and I’m done. BOOM. Now where the hell is my mascara?? Whenever I’m in a rush, my makeup carrier turns into a dysfunctional Mary Poppins bag. It’s as if suddenly whatever I use on a daily basis is nowhere to be found, but some nail polish from the fifth grade magically surfaces whenever I reach for the blush.
As I frantically rummage through the tiny bag, the lady in the lane next to me catches my attention. She has the flexibility of a fourth grade gymnast, with one leg hiked all the way up to the dashboard, her foot resting on the top of her steering wheel. She is fighting desperately to secure a very lovely stiletto strap around her ankle. The light turns green, and in an instant she and I are both throwing the shifter out of park and screeching away.
Mornings. They can either be the ultimate ass kicker or your best friend. They can either make you feel like Beyonce, ready to conquer the world in your best blow out,
Or like Gary Busey.
One thing that I’m learning for sure is that everyone has mornings like this. The lady in the car next to me? She looked like some sort of high ranking CEO as she tore off in her Lexus, designer shoe half fastened to her little ankle. But one off morning every now and then doesn’t mean you aren’t a super star.
I’m learning that one trait of my personality is to paint a mosaic of myself out these rough moments. If I’m not careful, I forget the Beyonce mornings. The ones that involve getting up extra early, french press, yoga, reflection. When the stress piles up, these moments become crumpled up scraps in a trash can next to the collage I’ve painted out of the bad moments.
The trying times don’t negate where you’re headed. They are speed bumps on a road paved out in gold for you. You just have remember to put Taylor Swift on repeat, roll your windows down, hopefully swing by and pick up a girlfriend who won’t judge you for top secret T Swift mix, and floor it.
These mornings, along with a million other moments (meetings that feel more like boxing matches, your complete inability to actually create that killer portfolio, rolodex to do lists) are diesel fuel to fear. Fear of inadequacy, fear of failure, fear of judgement. It’s like every time one of these little moments happens, a naysayer buys a ticket to the Big Game, and sits in the visitor’s section of your head, booing their heart out.
I think that fear dictates more people’s lives than would ever admit to it. Last night I had a conversation with one heck of a guy, and he reminded me how important it is not to live a life where fear is crouching behind the driver’s seat. He also reminded me how incredible it feels to have a partner who supports everything you want, and everything you are capable of being. It sure makes the fear a lot less daunting.
I’ll leave you with the words of Hannah Brencher, a girl who has unknowingly become a mentor of mine.
“The week is yours. Please don’t stay still. If you know you need to grow, please don’t stay still. Staying still– and never going to the next level inside of yourself– is a whole different kind of failure. It is failing at the one thing that all humans are called to: change. Change that scares you out of your mind. Change you swore you never would want or need. Change that pushes you. And makes you new.
That sort of change is not to be missed. That sort of change is what guarantees that who you are today will only last for that long. Just today. Just this moment. And isn’t that beautiful? You get to be whoever the hell you want to be. And you get to kill your own comfort zone. Please don’t miss out on how lovely that could be, to finally be bigger than the broken systems of your yesterday.”