LIVE WELL

 Maybe It Doesn’t Have to Be So Hard

There is a particular kind of grief that comes with realizing everyone is fine.

Your friends are happy. Their lives are growing. People are getting married, starting families, building homes, raising children, making dinner, going to bed early.

Nothing is wrong.

And still, something has ended.

I felt that this week.

I think a part of me has been holding on to the way friendship looked in my twenties. The frequency. The spontaneity. The assumption that we would always have the same amount of time for one another.

Of course we don’t.

We have grown up.

And I don’t mean that in the dreary way people sometimes talk about adulthood, as if getting older is simply a series of things being taken away from you. Quite the opposite. My friends’ lives have expanded beautifully.

But expansion changes things.

And if I’m being truthful, I have been grieving some of those changes.

I felt lonely this week.

There. I said it.

Not lonely because I am without love. I have a wonderful partner. I have family. I have friends I adore. I have a full life.

But I missed something that doesn’t exist in quite the same way anymore.

The interesting thing about loneliness is that sometimes, if you don’t immediately try to fix it, it will tell you something.

Mine did.

It brought me closer to Justin.

We had conversations that were more vulnerable than some we’ve had before. And somewhere in those conversations I realized how accustomed I am to managing myself.

I can handle it.

I’ll figure it out.

I’ll take care of it.

I know exactly where that comes from. I learned very young how to be capable. It has served me extraordinarily well.

Until it doesn’t.

Because there is a difference between being capable and believing you must carry everything alone.

And once I saw that, I started seeing it everywhere.

I overperform.

In friendships. At work. In hobbies. In the small, seemingly inconsequential corners of my life.

Apparently I even overperform at tennis.

I had a lesson this week and found myself getting frustrated because I was making mistakes I have made before. Why am I still doing this? Why haven’t I mastered this yet?

Then I remembered something rather important:

I am not training for Wimbledon.

Serena Williams is safe.

Tennis is my hobby.

I started playing because I enjoy it. Yet somewhere along the way, I had quietly turned enjoyment into another place where I needed to prove competence.

How exhausting.

What if I’m simply allowed to be an average tennis player having an excellent time?

What if I miss the shot?

What if my serve is terrible that day?

What if I laugh and try again?

There is so much pleasure available to us when we stop requiring ourselves to be impressive.

I thought about that again yesterday at CultureCon.

I did not want to go.

I have networking fatigue, which, if you are building a fashion business in New York, is mildly inconvenient. So much of this industry happens through relationships. You go to the dinner. You attend the event. You have the conversation. You remain visible.

Usually I understand this.

Yesterday, I wanted to stay home.

I hadn’t even planned an outfit, which was my first mistake. A note from me to you: if you are going somewhere you already don't particularly want to go, decide what you're wearing beforehand. Do not add an outfit crisis to the situation.

I went anyway.

And then life did what life occasionally does when you stop trying to orchestrate every detail.

It surprised me.

I met two people who may become part of what we are building next with KAPHILL.

Yes, girls. Product is coming.

Not tomorrow. I have enough self-imposed pressure as it is.

But we are beginning.

One of the people I ran into is someone I have worked with before, although never independently. We started talking, and suddenly an idea that had been living in my head felt a little more possible.

I don't entirely know how to do what comes next.

And strangely, that excites me.

For years, I think I believed preparedness meant knowing exactly how something would happen before I began.

Now I’m wondering whether preparedness can also look like being willing to begin without knowing.

I looked around CultureCon and remembered something else: I know people.

A lot of people.

Years of showing up, introducing myself, working, talking, attending dinners, taking meetings and building relationships have accumulated into something.

I don't have to manufacture a network from scratch every time I walk into a room.

I've already built one.

Maybe I can trust that, too.

That word—trust—has been following me around lately.

Trust that friendships can change without disappearing.

Trust Justin enough to let him see the parts of me that aren't neatly managed.

Trust that I can be bad at something and still enjoy it.

Trust that one unfinished weekend doesn't mean my life is falling apart.

Although, on that last point, I would also like to have a word with myself.

Because last weekend I decided I needed to rest.

Fine.

What I apparently decided I needed was to rest from every known responsibility.

Laundry? Tomorrow.

Cleaning the apartment? Tomorrow.

All the little things that make the week easier?

Tomorrow.

By Friday I was highly aggravated with a woman who looked suspiciously like me.

Rest is necessary. But I am learning that rest does not always require abandoning my life.

Sometimes you put the laundry in, then sit down.

Sometimes you clean the kitchen, then watch television.

Sometimes taking care of yourself means doing the small thing today so tomorrow's version of you doesn't inherit unnecessary chaos.

And maybe chaos is really what I have been reconsidering.

Because another strange thing is happening in my life.

Things are…calm.

My job is calm.

My relationship is calm.

My commute is easy.

I go to work and learn things. Really learn things. I'm not simply repeating what I already know.

My ideas matter there.

I'm realizing that I matter there.

Then I come home.

I spend time with the people I love. I work on KAPHILL. I dream about what we're building next.

Recently I was describing this season to a friend and said, “It isn't as exciting as fashion.”

And then I heard myself.

Maybe that's the point.

Maybe excitement and chaos became too closely related somewhere along the way.

Maybe I became so accustomed to life demanding everything from me that peace initially felt like nothing was happening.

But something is happening.

I have room.

Room to learn.

Room to love someone without drama.

Room to build something of my own.

Room to miss my friends and also meet them in the lives they have now.

Room to play tennis badly.

Room to change my mind.

Room to not know.

Maybe this season isn't asking me to become more impressive.

Maybe it is asking me to loosen my grip.

There are versions of our lives we cannot carry with us forever.

The friendship may stay, but its shape changes.

The ambition stays, but the urgency changes.

The woman stays, but the armor doesn't have to.

And perhaps letting go isn't losing anything at all.

Perhaps it is simply making enough room for what is trying to grow.

No Live Well recommendations this week. I'm traveling, living, and apparently working through several personal revelations at once.

We'll get back to our regularly scheduled recommendations next week.

Until then, do the laundry.

And please, for the love of a good evening, pick out the outfit before you leave the house.

xo,

Krystal