Red Lips & Traffic Jams

While my eyes and big forehead and less than toned arms top a long list of things about my body that make me self-conscious, I can’t remember ever having a problem with my mouth.

In the words of an anthropomorphic cucumber, “I love my lips!”

My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Zimmer, told me I had great lips and that people pay to have full lips like mine. Being ten and naive, I believed her.

Still, lipstick scares me.

I’m jealous of the women who have perfectly applied lipstick. My inability to color in the lines now manifests itself in my makeup application.

I was talking with my friend about how I don’t like wearing lipstick because I wasn’t able to apply it perfectly the first time I tried, so I gave up.

Without missing a beat, she fired back at me that it sounded more like I had a life problem than a lipstick problem.

She was right.

I dream big, and then get upset and give up when I can’t perfectly accomplish those dreams on the first try. I expect to go from inexperienced to perfect in 1.2 seconds at 70 MPH.

Disney taught me to wish on stars, and my dreams would come true.

Pinterest showed me inspirational quotes plastered on pictures of the open road.

“Keep going. Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.” 

Only it’s not a picture of a difficult road. It’s a beautiful country road with blue skies and a mountain in the distance and not a car in sight. A difficult road would be any LA freeway at rush hour or any hour.

Someone should slap an inspirational quote on a picture of the 101 because chasing dreams looks more like sitting in traffic than an open road or wishing on falling stars.

I don’t even care for driving on an open road. I basically hate driving all together, but driving home after Thanksgiving proved enjoyable the first 4 hours because I was listening to Born Standing Up by Steve Martin and he’s funny.

Like clockwork, as soon as my book ended just south of Gainesville on I-75, I saw the last thing you want to see on the interstate—brake lights.

In the next 2 hours, I traveled 40 miles.

The speed limit was 70 MPH, and it took me 2 hours to travel 40 miles.

At about an hour into this super fun leg of my 6-hour-turned-7.5-hour drive, I recognized how I could learn a lot about pursuing my dreams from this traffic jam.

Unlike chasing my dreams, when I’m in traffic, I have no other option but to keep moving forward.

I refuse to get distracted by exits no matter how much I want Chick-fil-a because detours add more time to my already long journey.

Netflix marathons will not make me a better writer. Netflix marathons will not make me a better writer. Netflix marathons will not make me a better writer.

I get stuck sometimes. I see people speeding past me and weaving in and out of traffic and basically being jerks because they think they’re better than everyone else.

That’s not fair. Why do some people have it so much easier than me? How many times do I have to tell myself to stop comparing myself to others? Probably just one more time. Two tops. Or everyday.

I have brief moments when I was able to finally move fast only I realize that now “moving fast” means 40 MPH. Then my moment of euphoria is over, and I’m back to stop-and-go with an extra helping of stop.

Changing my definition of fast makes even those 30 MPH bursts feel like a win. Maybe I should celebrate little steps more often.

To completely exhaust this traffic metaphor—I sure do wish this road had an HOV lane, and I wasn’t alone.

I can reach my dreams faster when I’m not working alone. We need each other. Even the support of one or two people makes a huge difference. 

I eventually make it past all the congestion and have the freedom to go 70 MPH again, and I feel like my perseverance earned the beautiful open highway that I’d been dreaming about for 2 hours.

If we want to reach our dreams, wishing won’t work. We have to work and realize that work doesn’t look like speeding down an open road all day every day.

Though I will say, if working on your goals makes you as miserable as a bumper-to-bumper standstill, then maybe it’s time to find a new dream—no metaphor is perfect.

No dream is perfect either, but your dream definitely shouldn’t make you feel like your stuck in traffic all the time. You need to have those open road days—they just won’t be most days.

Ironically, looking at life as a traffic jam has actually made me happier.

Changing my expectations from wishing stars to stop-and-go cars has allowed me to give myself grace.

I’ve accomplished more because I don’t expect to speed 70 MPH towards writing whole blog post in one sitting after a draining day at work. I can celebrate going 40 MPH towards a couple of paragraphs a day during the week.

Ruby red lips are my dream, but I can practice with a quieter, neutral shade and be content when I can’t apply it with the precision of Taylor Swift’s professional makeup artist. One day though.

“Embrace the traffic jam on the road to your dreams,” would only end up as a motivational quote on Instagram if Taylor Swift said it. I don’t think she has, but if she did, it’s good advice.

Open roads in life are few and far between, so learn to give yourself grace to live in the traffic where moving forward at all is cause for a party—or at least a pat on the back.