188 days. 188 days since my last post. 188 days later and my life is completely different now than it was back then. 188 days later and I’m ready. Ready to fully give this writing thing a shot. I think I struggle the most with wanting to say the right thing; with wanting to be the right thing. Even online, faced with mostly people I will never personally know, I still find myself trying to be the right thing to strangers. Crazy how it’s the ones we will never know that we struggle to impress the most. It’s on our social media. Only the best moments get shared. Only the best pictures with the best smiles and the right filter become our profile pictures. We’ve become obsessed with living our lives through a shade of Valencia. We overextend our lives to every social media possible. Facebook for friends. Twitter for strangers. Snapchats for trying to share imperfect moments but not without a filter and clever caption. Instagram to make our lives seem more artsy and creative than a New York coffee shop. Tinder for trying to validate our own worthiness in an online version of hot or not and forgetting that our own worthiness comes from within and not from what a stranger 10 miles away thinks of you.
I want us to learn how to wear our jeans with holes in them. Make them more than a fall fashion statement that’s seen all over Pinterest. Make them year round, every day. May the holes be big with shreds of fabric hanging on for dear life. Forget the filters and clever captions, lets declare our lives just as messy and imperfect as they are. Embrace the mess. The imperfections. The flaws. The stuttered words and funny faces we make when we think too hard. The snorts & tears running down our face because we laugh too hard. Embrace it because it’s beautiful. It’s raw. It’s real.
I’ve always been an all or nothing kind of girl. I don’t live in the between. I prefer boldness. Boldness in what I say. Boldness in what I do and how I live my life. But these days, I’m learning a different kind of bold. The bold that creeps into your bones in the middle of the night as you try to stay awake to finish a conversation. The bold that comes from admitting your feelings and hoping that maybe, just maybe, they could feel the same way too. The boldness that can’t be filtered away or hidden by a smile or covered up by a funny caption and emojis. It’s the boldness you see when you catch him looking at you and the boldness right before he kisses you for the first time. Being bold is brave in a world where vulnerability is shamed.
Vulnerability is one of the harder pills I’m learning to take. It’s hard to unlearn what you’ve taught yourself so long ago but it’s even harder to realize that by shutting yourself out, you can miss out on moments and people and memories. I don’t want to keep living my life through a shade of Valencia, I want to live with holes in my jeans.
I want to be known as bold and vulnerable. I want to love hard even when I have every reason not to. I want to be messy with can’t be tamed hair and wild eyes. I want to be someone’s reason to smile. I want to be the go-to girl, the person you come running to when your world comes crashing down around you. I have finally learned to be the girl who shows up. 188 days later. 188 days later and I am finally proud of all the roads I’ve been on & all the struggles I’ve faced & all the holes that I have.
The girl with holes in her jeans will wear them with fierceness. Boldness. Vulnerability. Passion. The girl with holes in her jeans will show up for you.