You know when you’re scrolling through social media or reading what people are posting, and everyone seems like they’ve got life completely figured out?
They’ve got the frameworks. The feelings, all labelled. Their struggle, neatly narrated. Their comeback story, edited to perfection.
Meanwhile, In real life I wake up some days feeling pretty clear-headed about life. Like I’ve got some idea of what I’m doing. And then the next day… those same things suddenly feel all over the place. Messy. Muddled. Not even close to sorted.
It’s weird, right?
Why do we work so hard to look like we’ve got it under control, when the truth, at least for me, is that some days I’m just pushing through?
Not very long ago, I ran my first 50km, It's the longest I've ever run and I had no idea what to expect. I took this quite seriously and trained hard: six months of prep. Quit drinking. Cut out sugar. Put in the miles. Everything that was in my control, I did.
But on my run?
I wasn’t crafting some emotional play-by-play in my head. I wasn’t thinking:
“At kilometre 25, I hit a wall. My quads were screaming. But I told myself: you’ve got this.â€â€œBy kilometre 37, I was reborn.†Nope!
Honestly, I wasn’t thinking much at all. I was just… there. One foot in front of the other. No realisations. No voiceover. No main character music. Not even Eye of the Tiger. Just showing up and pushing through.
It was an incredible experience, don't get me wrong— but not the kind you can slice up into neatly packaged takeaways.
And I wonder… is it just me? Or do we all go through stuff like that, raw and unresolved, but pretend there’s a clearer story?
Why do we feel the need to break every experience into something meaningful? Why isn’t just being in it enough?
Not every moment has to be content. Not every challenge needs a reflection. Not every win needs a post.
Sometimes the only story is:
“I showed up. I don’t have the words yet. But I was there. Fully.â€
And maybe that’s enough.