I wasn’t the girl who got the boy in high school. Or college. Or grad school. That stands true today too. It just isn’t me. I don’t exactly know why that isn’t the case, But I do know that I have let it define me for as long as I can remember.
Trading trendy style for trendy style, caring not enough to caring too much. Long Instagram captions and realness for Lightroom edited photos and sassy comments. Wondering if those versions of myself would finally be the one that caught attention. Saying things that even tasted bad coming out of my mouth. Allowing toxicity literally into my bed because “maybe this is just the way it is?” I’ve spent half a lifetime letting boys who didn’t want me define me and damn, is that self-sabotage or what.
Breakups always leave me feeling like “wow, what did I do wrong?” rather than “Wow, dodged a bullet there”. The last boy who ended things in graduate school left me so messed up that my sister had to drag me out of bed for my own graduation. I’m sorry, WHAT?! A whole day about me and I’m too busy crying over a boy who didn’t even care enough to remember what I was in school for??
I woke up January first really exhausted of the boy-pleasing, sad and self-blaming girl that I had become. I woke up that morning after crying until 4 AM and realized that I am the only one who can take the power back.
I’m the only one who gets to decide to protect myself and not be defined by anyone else.
I’m the only one who gets to say no to any more toxicity or comparison.
I’m the only one who can find the version of myself that I actually am.
And unfortunately, it’s not the one I’ve put on social media lately. And it’s not the one who ruins people’s nights because she is sad. And its not the one who defines herself by all the boys who watch her Instagram story but won’t like her pictures.
Gosh did I put a lot of my worth into that damn Instagram account. Maintaining an image, checking the likes, wondering why a boy literally wouldn’t even press like on a photo. Scrolling other girls’ profiles trying to figure out how to copy their content for a more aesthetically pleasing account. Envying other women. Wondering why I never looked like “that” version of pretty.
But slowly I’m realizing that Instagram isn’t a version of pretty that I am particularly interested in being.
So you won’t see me on social media in this season. But I’ll tell you where I will be:
- drinking coffee in the corner of my favorite coffee shop drawing diagrams of all my feelings.
- sitting in the comfiest of chairs asking my friends questions and speaking my own truths.
- sweating it out at barre classes…learning just how strong I really am.
- talking out loud to God…proclaiming how I know He sees me.
- finding intentionality in life. With less of a desire to impress, more of a desire to be content with where I am.
- trading out the Instagram likes for more things I like in real life.
I may not be the girl who gets the boy, still. But I am the girl who will figure out how to live a life so full of joy that it doesn’t freaking matter.