“Live a true love story and tell no one. People ruin beautiful things.”
Every time I bring a box home from Ikea, I accept two things before attempting assembly-
- None of the necessary tools are in the box. There’s a good chance that there aren’t enough reliable screws to effectively hold the furniture upright, long-term.
- There are no instructions.
You may be thinking, “There are definitely instructions in every Ikea box!”
And to that- I say, “No. There are no written instructions. There are pictures.”
What I love about Ikea is the confidence the designers have in customers. The engineers who draw the instructions assume we’re all capable of seeing exactly two images of a small stick figure placing a square on another square, then building a whole furniture set based on the lazy interpretation.
I feel like God treats me just like Ikea treats its customers.
I was given zero effective, detailed examples of how to live this life successfully. Yet, here I am.
Breathing.
Smiling.
Dancing.
Loving.
I built a beautiful life from the ashes of opinions I burned, gathered piles of scorched criticisms, and used them for the grout between the bricks of my inner world’s outer walls.
I am protected by the self-love I grew from seeds, watered with resilience and audacious energy.
The seeds I watered were nurtured, privately. Each of them was so sacred and delicate, I never let anyone near them.
When I was healing from the darkest moments of my life, I was unreachable.
Not because I was bitter, resentful, or withdrawn. But because I was finally protecting my potential from the harsh winds of this cold world. Becoming more selective with my time and energy was the only way to guarantee I’d stop reliving the same people-pleasing nightmare, again and again.
The only way to create a life that was my own, was to stop using other people’s lives as my blueprint.
I realized a while ago, that success isn’t one size fits all. Left undefined, success is nothing more than a popular, haunting folktale that everybody whispers about ‘round camp fires (or conference tables).
When I tried to chase other people’s definition of success, I lost my way. The path was foggy and dark, dimmed by projected limitations. The air was thick with unrealistic expectations and gender-based assumptions that didn’t serve me.
I abandoned that path and cleared my own.
Being successful was never optional. I always knew I’d be somebody. But I didn’t know how to be somebody who didn’t need everybody’s approval.
Building something out of nothing requires a personal vision that isn’t revised every time someone disagrees with its nuances and rare specifications.
I had to get comfortable with not being liked.
I had to get used to being ridiculed for having ideas that seemed outrageous to narrow minds and underdeveloped imaginations.
The major reason a lot of the people choose to play small and avoid pursuing the things they’re passionate about (relationships, travel, entrepreneurship, art), is other people’s opinions.
When I was growing up, I’d ask adults for advice and they almost always offered wisdom based on their fears. They offered guidance based on their contorted world views. They offered feedback based on their failures.
I tried to use their advice as a rulebook, but creating a life based on generational fears and trauma-based decision making just didn’t sit right with me.
I burned the rulebook and decided I’d find my way using the compass etched into my heart. I’d use nudges I felt in my gut as indication of danger or dishonesty.
I decided to collect materials and build a life worth living. Being original and living authentically sounds fun. It isn’t. It’s isolating and counterintuitive.
People who grow up in a society that imposes norms and expectations aren’t wired to transition gracefully into a quiet life of self-acceptance and intuitive thinking. Hearing my own voice is startling and intrusive sometimes.
It took years to find enough joy, optimism, and self-respect to create a bomb shelter that protects me from random and aggressive opinions of faux friends.
I walked through hell and stole some embers from the furnace to keep me warm in this campsite I call home.
It’s magical to know where home is now and to be invited to be myself. A true love story isn’t based on fairy or folktales. It isn’t founded on beliefs that were handed down and force fed to me. It’s the evidence of hard work and decisive faith. Faith that duels with fear and wins.
A love story, as far as I’m concerned, has nothing to do with romance or interaction with another person. It’s about the relationship a person has with herself, the respect she has for herself.
I don’t ask for permission, anymore. What’s best for me may not make sense to everybody else and that’s fine. I don’t need an endorsement to be myself. I don’t need sponsorship to sustain myself. I stopped needing a co-signer a long time ago.
The guidance I need most is always available to me. It’s celestial.
My enthusiasm about being independent and finding my own way is not an attempt to devalue the kindness and generosity of those who helped raise me. They taught me so much about survival. They fed and clothed me. I’m grateful.
But building my beautiful life is about rejecting confining traditions and unlearning habits that are traumatizing.
I had to walk away from everything I thought I knew and start over again. Radical change often requires a person to walk away from a palace once it starts feeling like a prison.
“People ruin beautiful things” is a reminder that unwelcome opinions are poisonous when they’re powered by fear or jealousy.
I can’t expect people who aren’t happy to be happy for me.
I can’t expect people who’ve never left home to tell me about the beauty of the sunset in South Africa.
I can’t expect people who succumb to groupthink to understand how I make decisions. I’m individualistic and autonomous.
I don’t want to waste this one, fabulous, precious life waiting for everybody to agree with me- which is why I don’t try to recruit or convince or persuade.
“Travel and tell no one, live a true love story and tell no one, live happily and tell no one, people ruin beautiful things.”- Khalil Gibran