A SORRY MESS

When I think back to my childhood, I never viewed being a mess as a negative thing. Spilling milk repeatedly, I didn’t feel the need to cry over it. Being a mess held little significance because there was always someone more responsible to clean it up for me.

Somewhere along the way, I began to perceive being a mess negatively. The minor stumbles over physical and metaphorical obstacles became points of self-consciousness for others to tease. I spent much of my teenage years walking on eggshells around these individuals, hoping to avoid making mistakes. I checked and double-checked my backpack before leaving home. I practiced the words I would say to someone before standing before them. Essentially, I meticulously planned and prepared for any possible curveball that could be thrown my way.

‘Don’t pull a Ria’ was a phrase I repeated for years in my head. Originating from a playful jab at my lack of hand-eye coordination at age seven, these four words became a mantra for every situation in which I could make a mistake. However, not ‘pulling a Ria’ meant losing a bit of my true self along the way.

Making a mess of things is a part of who I am. And, from what I’ve observed, it’s a part of who most people are. What some do better than others is conceal it. No one is perfect, but some appear more polished due to how they present their imperfect lives.

At the end of the day, every mistake we make is a learning experience. When I cut my finger on the first day of college and needed eight stitches, it taught me how to handle unexpected situations. When I received a text that made my heart sink, it taught me how to set boundaries and address suppressed feelings I had forgotten. When I lost the senate seat I had dedicated weeks to, it taught me how to grow from failure and take pride in the small accomplishments along the way. Each mess requires cleanup, and while it might seem like I’m the only one making them, I’ve also inherited the quality of transparency from a family that consistently rejects the culture of sweeping problems under the rug.

For now, I’m an open book. I aim to set an example for what it means to be human. Every time I’ve fallen into another mess, I’ve picked myself up, brushed myself off, and moved forward. But, I’m not just a mess; I’m a sorry mess. The most crucial aspect of rectifying my errors is ensuring I don’t implicate others. I learned from my brother long ago the significance of the words ‘I’m sorry.’ You can create numerous mishaps for yourself, but causing harm to others merits acknowledgment and remorse. It’s a delicate balance between apologizing to them while still forgiving yourself.

Inevitably, we will all hurt someone. We will break things and witness others suffer as a result. We can sit there, blaming ourselves and pleading for their forgiveness, or we can tend to the wound, apologize for our slip-up, and be there to mend the relationships that matter. Being a mess does not make you dirty. It is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s a fact to find comfort in – that we can fall repeatedly and still get up to move forward. Be a sorry mess, take responsibility for your mistakes, and then, continue making them to demonstrate how resilient a sorry mess can truly be.

“You are not a mess. You are a feeling person in a messy world.”

-Glennon Doyle Melton

Happy Living