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So, I have two full-time jobs and, luckily, both of them are WFH (work from home).

When I recently started one of my lectures with oily hair, wearing a pair of 20-year-old, on-the-verge-of-breaking-down spectacles that I normally wouldn’t even allow me to see myself in, I knew that all the stuff people think about me having it all together is just a myth.

These days, I am that person who sends professional emails while wearing mismatched socks and eating cereal out of a mug. And this is not because I don’t have any clean bowls (I don’t), but because I saw them in the sink and thought: Not today, Satan.

Please don’t think I’m falling apart. Well…maybe just a little. No, no—I’m fine. (Mostly.) But these days, I wake up with a deep sense of unease and dread. And this is All. The. Time. So while I’m able to juggle my life (on the outside), I’m also constantly wrestling with this quiet, persistent something inside me.

Sure, it does feel like the world around us is crashing and burning, so maybe this gloom-and-doom feeling is warranted. But for someone who’s generally on top of things, this inner unraveling? It’s a bit of a shock.

But you know what? I’m not running away from it.

I’m f*cking leaning in.

Tearing up because McDonald’s sent me soggy fries? It’s all good. Once I get past the tantrums I throw at myself, I’m all zen and ready for the next catastrophe.

(Which promptly shows up!)

Getting ready to finally do the dishes because I’ve run out of even mugs for cereal, only to realize I forgot to add dishwashing liquid to my Big Basket order? Y’all, I got this. I lay on the floor, imagine I’m a tragic diva on stage, and cry dramatically into the abyss. Five stars. Would recommend.

Missed one of my dearest friends’ birthdays? You know? The one who literally sets an alarm for 11:55 p.m. just so she can be the first to wish me happy birthday every year? It’s fine. It’s all…Naa! Yeah, okay. That one broke me a little. Especially the overwhelming guilt.

But that’s also when I fully gave up and decided: Enough pretending. Let’s lean into the mess.

Because maybe this is what being a functioning adult looks like now. Maybe “having it all together” is just knowing where the line is between your real breakdown and the one you perform on the kitchen floor for catharsis. Maybe it’s knowing that you are strong, and also completely overwhelmed, and also still pretty hilarious.

So, here’s what I’ve decided: I’m going to stop trying to keep it all together. And I invite you to stop too.

Here’s what I’m doing instead: Surviving (and maybe even thriving) in the mess. And this is how:

1. Group chats with people who let me be unhinged without judgment. These people are the real ones. Keep them close.

2. Random solo dance parties in my kitchen. No audience, no shame, just vibes.

3. Lowering the bar. Like…a lot. Not everything has to be a gold-star performance. Sometimes bronze is cute, too.

4. Crying and laughing at the same time. It’s weirdly efficient. Multitasking at its emotional best.

5. Giving myself grace. Forgot something? Missed a deadline? Burnt toast again? Welcome to the club. You’re still doing your best.

6. Finding my floor stage. Whether it’s the kitchen, the hallway, or the bathroom mat—cry there. Perform there. Be free.

7. Knowing I can always start over—even if it’s 4:37 p.m. on a Tuesday. Because time is fake and redemption is real.

8. Laugh at it all. When everything feels like a disaster, find one part that’s just absurd enough to be funny. That’s your lifeline.

9. Reach out. Grovel. There’s no need for perfection here. All that is needed is honesty. “Hey, I forgot your birthday, and I feel awful. Can we still be friends?” Most of the time, the answer is yes. But not before she made me pay through the nose. Lunch and dinner at a five-star hotel and unlimited booze. I may have to live on ramen for the next three months, but my friend is so worth it.

10. Chocolate. Honestly, this should’ve been first.

So no, I don’t have it all together. But I do have a mug of cereal, unmatched socks, and just enough hope (and chocolate) to keep showing up.

And for now, that’s more than enough.

~