The myth of having your shit together
Someone asked me a question recently and it's been playing on my mind.
The question was:
Do you think people pretend to have their shit together, or do we just falsely perceive that they do?
The answer is both. And I have other thoughts, too. So settle in.
Let's start with people-perceiving-shit-togetherness.
This stood out to me because I post quite a lot on LinkedIn. It's my main business social media thing. I post weekly on leadership, building teams, workplace culture and running my biz. Occasionally, I might share events I’m hosting or speaking at.
But you won't really see me sharing "big wins", like celebrating landing a new client or hitting some huge milestone. Just not my vibe. I'm a British babe, after all.
Even so, people are regularly like, "you're absolutely smashing it!" And I'm like, am I? Because I often don't feel like it at all, and most of my posts are actually quite vulnerable.
I talked openly recently about how this is my year of recovery and slowing down, and realising that chasing constant growth just isn't sustainable for me. Reading between the lines, I'm working through some stuff. But I think a lot of people just see the highlights and think that's the truth.
I suspect that this stems from our unhealthy habit of constantly comparing ourselves to others. When we see the highlights, even if these are balanced with more vulnerable posts, we cling onto the good bits and inevitably feel like everyone else is ahead, even when they're quietly struggling too.
Now onto people-pretending-shit-togetherness.
There are obviously plenty of influencers out there who are literally paid to look like they have their shit together. And I realise that, yet again, it's just another capitalist trap.
The very idea that it's even possible to have your shit together is what keeps us buying more courses, productivity hacks, self-help books, and endless apps. It's all part of the endless hustle culture that profits off making us feel inadequate.
If in doubt, blame capitalism and patriarchy, my friends.
Here's the thing: life isn't about having your shit together.
It's about exploring and self-discovery - not the relentless pursuit of constant self-improvement, but actually getting to know yourself better and designing a life around who you genuinely are.
This means leaning into discomfort, vulnerability, and the messy bits of being human.
I recently read a beautiful book, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, which explores grief rituals and emphasises that a life without sadness and grief is one that’s never truly loved or been loved. While we naturally want our lives skewed towards happiness, to fully experience joy, we must also risk and embrace the grief and sadness too.
And at the end of the day, as someone with ADHD, I'm literally never going to "have my shit together" in the way society expects. My brain simply isn't wired that way. But I'm increasingly ok with that.
Let's reflect together.
Think about one thing you're chasing because you feel you're supposed to have your shit together - whether it's a certain career milestone, an overly polished online image, or the pressure to always look busy.
Ask yourself:
Do I genuinely care about this, or am I performing it for someone else?
If I'm truly honest with myself, mine would be maintaining an active presence on apps like Instagram and TikTok. I constantly tell myself I need to show up consistently on those platforms as well as LinkedIn - but do I really? I'm actively trying to limit my social media usage, especially on my phone, and forcing myself onto multiple platforms goes completely against that.
This newsletter, Reboot Required, is my invitation to you (and myself): let’s stop pretending, stop chasing perfection, and instead start designing lives and work that genuinely suit who we are, messy bits and all.
I'd absolutely love to hear your take. Hit reply and tell me:
What's one area of your life where you wish you could stop feeling pressured to "have your shit together"?
Talk soon,
Nat x
P.S. Shoutout to Antonia for being the muse for this newsletter, and Kat for getting me onto a book I would never have otherwise read.
