Do I Have My Life Together?

Have I Gotten My Life Together?

This is a phrase I hear a lot (much like the phrase, “College Experience,” which I hate with a burning passion). I think people use it as a joke, as if there is this arbitrary measure of togetherness and organization that determines your human value. As if grades aren’t enough! (That’s sarcasm with some bitter irony, if you didn’t catch it. I know grades don’t directly determine my value as a human...) 

I’ve decided, however, to evaluate myself based on this idea of togetherness as my first post of 2019. It’s been an entire year plus some since I posted last. It’s my second semester of sophomore year of college. I’m very happy with where I am in life. 9 days into the new year and not even 20 hours into my 20th year of life, I secretly think I sort of know what I’m doing? 

This is what I have together:

I’ve been making my bed every day. Dorm rooms look incredibly messy when the beds are not made, and I’ve come to appreciate and require a clean workspace. 

I own an Instant Pot and a KitchenAid Mixer (and know how to use them both).

I’m drinking a lot of water and making a strong effort to eat a fruit at every meal. This seems easy until your college cafeteria only serves the same four fruits every day. I eat a lot of grapes and the occasional green banana if my joints are craving potassium. 

I have two jobs on my college campus—I work in the library in an office where I never have to talk to anyone, and I am a writing tutor, which is the best decision I’ve ever made in college. 

I know how to get basically anywhere around my hometown and my college town. I’ve gotten much better at navigating highways and I’m slowly gaining a sense of direction? 

I’ve started a podcast with my roommate and I am excited by the newness and scheduled creativity. I love writing posts and getting feedback and comments from people about something I’ve made. 

I have a group of friends I love dearly. Some are far, some are near. I’ve grown more accustomed to talking to people, even casually, and letting myself have those casual friendships as well as deeper, more personal, relationships. 

I have a bullet journal where I keep all of my to-do lists consolidated and color coded. My calendar is full, but organized. 

I put money in an investment account. I’ve been reading about stocks and bonds and ETFs and other initialisms that are hard to define or remember. I have a credit score now that I know how to control. 

There are professors that I have fantastic relationships with, and I’ve been in classes I love. 

I have little trips planned for the near future. 

I take vitamin D pills that really make a difference in my happiness and energy levels. My health is somewhat under control, and while I purposely don’t make it a top priority, everything is falling into place (or being pulled out of my mouth, if you are my wisdom teeth.)

I know what classes I need to graduate, what semesters I have to take what to get my degree on time or possibly early. I know where I want to work when I graduate and I have a whole Pinterest board of classroom ideas!

My keys are organized on adorable and convenient keychains. They live on a hook in my room that makes it nearly impossible to forget them. 

I have my kids’ names picked out—I have for over a decade now.

I’ve started writing my memoir. 

I am putting true effort into living in the moment, relishing in excitement, controlling negative thoughts, and documenting my time in ways I want to remember it. 

I feel like this is a good chunk of what “getting my life together” should look like. My friends and professors regularly say I have “it” together—whatever “it” may be. But I also feel like I have very little of this “together” people speak of. For example: 

My laundry piles up, and even when I separate my clothes, my whites don’t stay white. My box of pens and markers is a mess and hardly worth using. The track on my desk is wonky and the drawer falls out if I pull on it too hard. My hair won’t stay curly when washed in the hard water of my college town. I’m constantly losing tubes of mascara. I spend far too much time on Facebook and Instagram and Pinterest. I don’t take beautiful pictures like I want to. I dress like a kindergarten teacher basically all the time; there’s nothing wrong with that actually, I’m making it my aesthetic, but I don’t have mid-level casual clothing that feels suitable for class; it’s either leggings and a long shirt or a perfectly matched floral skirt and flouncy tee. My school closet is overflowing and I don’t have enough shelf space for the new shoes I just ordered. I still hate wearing socks. I think I’ve forgotten inside jokes. I don’t read books, like, hardly ever. I say I’m a writer, and even have deadlines on projects, but I don’t make the time to write a priority. I don’t work out. I don’t get to cook all of my meals or prep food like I want to. My podcast app keeps asking me if I still care about the shows I’m subscribed to, since I’m so far behind. My dresser is dusty and my mirror has a film of hair products coating it. I should probably actually host my own websites and invest in my projects, but I don’t. The art I’m making doesn’t regularly satisfy my need to have made something. I’ve been saying for years that I want to develop more products to sell on Etsy and other websites, but I don’t take the time to do it. I can’t be bothered to put more than three products on my face at any given time (mascara, eyebrow gel, and maybe a lip gloss if I’m feeling extra fancy). My SIMS are surely all dead, though I don’t suppose this is the worst thing on the scale of all things. 

It’s all this little stuff that seems so big to think about, but honestly so minute in comparison to the huge things I’ve listed that I do have together. There was very little rhyme or reason to me writing this post, but it has haphazardly become a nice therapeutic practice and made me think of all the good things I’m doing already and see how those outnumber and overwhelm the little negatives I tend to focus on. 

Next time you feel like you’re not together enough, maybe make a list? I love lists. Or eat popcorn. Popcorn always makes me feel better.