Sometimes things get messy
On imperfection and presence
The only thing that really matters is this: Are you comfortable with the truth you’re living? Because if you can’t sit with the choices you’ve made and love them, you’ve probably forgotten that what matters most is how you perceive yourself.”
This past weekend, I made a mistake. Due to either human error or a technical glitch (I am really not sure who to blame), three weeks’ worth of my carefully scheduled posts landed in your inbox all at once. My immediate reaction was panic—I unpublished everything, hoping to salvage my publication schedule. Then I realized: most of you had already read those pieces, or at least seen them land.
And in that moment of recognizing my own mess, my own imperfection, I felt it: that familiar tightening in my chest. That inner critical voice asking, “What will they think? Will they think I’m unprofessional? Disorganized? Will they unsubscribe because it’s too much?”
But here’s the thing I keep learning, over and over, in deeper and deeper layers: You’re never going to be liked by everyone. You’re never going to be understood by everyone.
Nobody is going to completely understand who you are, why you make the choices you do, why you hold the truths that you hold, or why they’re true for you.
Yeah. Now that’s some truth. Nobody is going to completely understand, appreciate, or like you.
There are going to be people who think, “Wow, why did she do that? Why on Earth would anyone do that?” There are going to be people who look at your choices—the big ones and the small ones—and shake their heads in confusion or judgment. And there are going to be people who talk like that and think like that to your face and behind your back for the rest of your life. That’s just the reality of being human in a world full of other humans, each with their own lens, their own truths, their own ideas about how life should be lived.
And you know what? That’s okay. That has to be okay. Because the alternative—living your life in constant negotiation with other people’s opinions, constantly smoothing down your edges so you fit more neatly into someone else’s idea of who you should be—that’s not living at all. That’s performing, or worse, that’s hiding. That’s slowly erasing yourself until there’s nothing left but a hollow shape that everyone else finds acceptable.
If you are going to live a life that has meaning for you, you have to continually ask yourself:
Are you comfortable with the truth you’re living? Are you happy with the meaning in your life? Do you like your life? Do you like the people in it? Are you enjoying your time here?
Or are you constantly fixated on what other people think? Are you constantly worried that if you make that decision, you’ll lose that friend? That if you pursue that dream, people will think you’re foolish? That if you share that truth, someone will think less of you?
Because if you can’t sit with the choices you’ve made and love them and be happy with them, then you’ve probably made the wrong choices. Probably you’re living out of alignment with your own truth. Or you’re so wrapped up in how you’re perceived by others that you’ve forgotten what matters most: how you perceive yourself.
When I hit that “unpublish” button in a panic, I was definitely in that place of fear—that place of “what will they think?” But the truth is, some of you probably didn’t even notice. Some of you noticed and didn’t care. Some of you might have been annoyed. Some of you might have thought it was funny. And all of those reactions are valid, and none of them are really about me. They’re about each person’s own experience, their own frame of mind that day.
And I can’t control any of that. The only thing I can control is whether I show up anyway.
It’s been an interesting season for me. This fall, my internal landscape has gone through profound changes. I’ve come to deeper levels of seeing myself, understanding myself, and clarifying what I want from life and how I want to interact with it. We have, as Mary Oliver puts it, this one wild and precious life. For as long as I can remember—even deep into my childhood years—I’ve been fixated on how I want my wild and precious life to look and what meaning I want to mine from it.
But fixation on how things should look is different from clarity about how things should feel. And this autumn has brought me that distinction.
I want to live with less attachment to perfection and more commitment to presence. I want to care less about universal approval and more about internal alignment. I want to make choices that make sense to me, even if they make sense to absolutely no one else. I want to sink into both the mundane and the messiness with pleasure and gratitude for the simple fact that we are here—not as polished, perfected versions of ourselves, but as we actually are: flawed, trying, stumbling, getting back up, learning as we go.
I want to live a life that might look odd or confusing from the outside, but feels true on the inside. I want to prioritize the quiet knowing in my gut over the loud opinions in my inbox. I want to be brave enough to disappoint people if it means staying aligned with myself.
And this piece of the internet world, where I get to write to you and share my truths, my experiences, and the little glimmers of magic and wisdom that come through experiencing life—it’s a pretty special thing to me. Not because it’s perfect or polished or always goes according to plan, but because it’s real. Because it’s mine. Because I get to show up here as I actually am, not as I think I should be.
I’m very grateful you’re all here, reading and witnessing my own being and becoming. And I hope that in witnessing my imperfection, my mistakes, my willingness to be messy and human, you feel permission to do the same in your own life.
So when I made this mistake, when my carefully laid plans crumbled, I had a choice: beat myself up over the lack of control, spiral into worry about what subscribers might think, or accept it as part of the beautifully imperfect practice of showing up authentically—of living a life that makes sense to me, even when it makes sense to no one else.
I’m choosing the latter. And I’m inviting you to choose it too.
Choose the life that makes sense to you, even if it makes sense to no one else. Choose the path that feels true, even if it looks messy from the outside. Choose to be understood by yourself over being understood by everyone. Choose to disappoint people if it means staying aligned with your own truth. Choose to be liked by the right people over being acceptable to everyone.
Because here’s what I’m learning: the people who are meant to walk alongside you, who are meant to witness your becoming, who are meant to be in your life—they won’t need you to be perfect. They won’t need you to have it all figured out. They won’t need your life to make sense to them. They’ll just need you to be real. To be you. To keep showing up, even when it’s messy, even when you make mistakes, even when you don’t have all the answers.
If you’d like to revisit the pieces I unpublished, they’re available here:
(I am also in the process of reclaiming pieces I wrote and shared on Medium under a pseudonym so if you feel like you’ve read this before, be patient with me as I may accidentally be reposting things here and there).
There may be a gap in my writing in December as I adjust my schedule. But honestly? That’s okay. Because what matters most isn’t a perfect content calendar or making sure everyone approves of every choice I make—it’s that we’re here together, making meaning, finding clarity, and learning to be wholly happy with what we do with this one wild and precious life.
A life that is ours. A life that makes sense to us. A life that we can sit with and love, regardless of who understands it.
I hope what I share brings you the clarity or depth of meaning you’re seeking. And if there’s ever something you want me to write about or explore with you, please don’t hesitate to drop a comment or reply. Tell me what’s weighing on your mind. Share what you’re wrestling with. Tell me about the choice you’re afraid to make because of what people might think. Tell me about the life you want to live that makes sense to no one but you.
I’m here to be and become alongside you.
Let’s make meaning together. Let’s find clarity in the questions we’re brave enough to ask. Let’s give ourselves permission to be messy, imperfect, misunderstood. Let’s embrace the beautiful chaos of being human, right here, right now. Let’s build lives that feel true on the inside, even if they look confusing from the outside.
Wherever we come from before this life, or wherever we go after, is not as important to me as the simple act of being here—imperfectly, authentically, unapologetically together. Living lives that make sense to us. Loving the choices we make. Sitting comfortably with our own truth.
That’s what matters. That’s what I’m choosing. And I hope you’ll choose it too.
Needed this today. Thank you, genuinely.
These are the soothing words of reassurance that I really needed to read today, Raine. Thank you!