That’s the word a good friend of mine used to describe me. Some might be offended by that, but I wasn’t. Truth is, it’s probably a fairly accurate statement.
It forced me to think about how others perceive me. I asked my friend, the husband of one of my dearest girlfriends, how he came to that word:
He explained that he simply meant I always seem to be on the go, in a hurry, a bit off-balance.
I secretly hate that word now. It’s probably why one of my sisters also once told me that I seem stressed-out by the time I arrive for family dinners. I’m sure she meant it with concern, and she’s probably right.
I am disheveledly stressed-out. For many reasons, though none are good enough:
I don’t get but 4 hours of sleep at night. I have two boys: translation, more energy that I can handle. And my husband lives in a bubble bath a good 72% of his life. I’m forgetful and don’t like to plan my weeks too far in advance. Heck, I don’t like to plan at all. I live in the moment, and see no reason to look at my calendar more than 48 hours into the future.
But, the disheveled comment, made on my 40th birthday inside a limo, stuck with me.
I don’t want to be remembered for always losing my keys or phone, or flying through the door at the last possible second as if to say, ‘I’m here, though freakin’ BARELY.’ I want my outer vibe to reflect my inner:
My love for my kids. For being with family. For saving the birthday cards I receive from my nearly 90-year-old grandmother because I don’t know when one may be the last. For finding the small things in life, like when my son tells me his favorite part of his day was when I picked him up from school, though I know it isn’t true. He wants me to think so, and I have no problem playing along. Pretty sure the recess or the school’s tasty chicken nuggets rate higher.
My friend and I joke about what got this conversation started. When he sends a text to say he’s listening to my radio show and asks how things are going, I respond with this:
‘Doing okay. You know…disheveled.’
More than anything, the disheveled comment made me stop and think about truly living life this year, and not rushing life’s moments.
How do others describe YOU? And are they right?