your whole, messy self.

A couple of weeks ago, my coworkers and I were sitting around our table, reflecting on recent birthdays and talking about the things we've learned in the last year. Eventually, the question came around to me.

"What about you, Mads? What have you learned?"

I pause. I feel like I have a million epiphanies every day. I've experienced more change and growth in the last four months than I have in the last few years. I moved 2,000 miles away from everything I've ever known to try a creative residency with an uncertain future, made new friends, worked harder than I have in my entire life, and accepted a new job.

It's flown by and dragged on, all at the same time. I had days that seemed to last years, but at the same time it feels like I blinked and I've been in California for four months.

I think about a conversation I had with a coworker a few months ago. I was, as always, overthinking and overanalyzing a conversation I had a few days prior. I do this really neat thing where I pick apart every word I say and facial expression I do and analyze them for literally hours.

'Why did I do that? I loathe myself.' - The leading track in the album that is my life

This is insane for many reasons, but the main one is that there is literally NOTHING I can do about something I said or did in the past. Nothing. My time machine isn't built yet so what's the point of rehashing every interaction I've ever had? NO IDEA. 

Lucky for me, he stopped the runaway train that is my mind and said, "Not everything has to be so curated. You just have to show up with your whole, messy self."

Your whole, messy self.

I didn't realize this until Bao said it, but there's enough things in the world that are curated. We live our lives constantly in Photoshop: we edit and edit and edit photos and captions to make our lives look better than they really are, our skin clearer, the sunset more vibrant. We take things and we keep editing them until they've satisfied our standards. 

There are enough things in the world that are curated. You are not meant to be one of them.

I'm a chronic people pleaser, so editing myself to make other people happy is kind of my thing. I want to be everything to everybody imaginable. So I get it. I get that need to try and curate the words you say and the things you do to make somebody else happy.

When taking photos of food for commercials and social media, photographers use an insane amount of product to make the food appetizing through their lens. That Carl's Jr hamburger that looks shiny and plump and amazing? Soaked in hairspray. And glue. And a bunch of other stuff. It needs a bunch of help to look that good.

But you know what? You're not a hamburger. You can spray hairspray and glue and whatever else you want to make yourself look as good as possible all the time, but it's not sustainable. You're going to spend a lot of time wondering if your mirage is starting to slip. 

I'm sitting at the airport right now, looking at the planes coming to and from the gates. On my flight into Denver, we experienced some turbulence - and I had this moment, in the middle of the flight, where I was suddenly painfully aware of how out of control we are. That at any moment, we could drop out of the sky. Just like that.

There's a million things everyday that could happen to us. We could get hit by a car, or be diagnosed with cancer, or our house could catch on fire - there's very little tethering us to this place. Yet we spend most of our time trying to change who we are to make other people happy.

This is a little existential for this post, but it's true. I spend so much of my time thinking about ways to change myself so I'm less "me" and more "cool". But that's lame. There's only one you, so don't waste time trying to curate your life so there's more white walls and perfect lattes and WHATEVER else we have somehow deemed as desirable. Embrace the awkward pauses and stuttered words.