This is a hard one, even for That Unicorn. Sometimes everything goes to pieces, and there’s just not much good to be found. People get sick. The house floods. Jobs are lost. Bills pile up. Kids get in trouble. Nothing is going right. It’s not good. But it is real and it does have to be wrangled and it will end.
That Unicorn doesn’t need to be told to find the silver lining. Sometimes there really isn’t one. That Unicorn doesn’t need to be told “Keep your chin up” or “At least you’re better off than some people” or “At least you have (fill-in-the-blank).” That Unicorn knows that there are times when the universe—at least hers—comes terribly unglued, and the only way out is through. And so first, unicorns allow themselves to scream and cry and kick and bemoan the unfairness of it all. And then…
Then That Unicorn says, “This has to be done. And I am the one who has to do it.” And she does it. That’s why we long to be That Unicorn so much. It’s not that unicorns are unaffected by the world; it’s that they don’t let it change their paths. It’s not that they never face a storm; it’s that they go in wearing their foul-weather gear and armed with umbrellas. It’s not that they don’t get sad or mad or disappointed; it’s that they don’t let it stop them. And don’t think you have to smile through it all, either. Sometimes unicorns grit their teeth, too.
That’s the big secret. I hope it doesn’t scare you to hear that. What I hope instead is that it makes it all the more clear to you how within reach being a unicorn is. That Unicorn looks like she knows it all because she moves through the world without anything stopping her, not because she knows everything, but because she knows she can figure it out or find it out.
Too many people wait to do something until they are sure the conditions are ideal. Enough time together to move in, enough experience to apply for that job, enough time to take that class, enough background to ask that question. The problem is, it could feel like it’s never enough. Then, before you know it, the moment is long past.
Unicorns aren’t thoughtless. But they don’t wait indefinitely, either. They’re not entitled, but they also know their worth. They aren’t afraid to tell you that they’re ready, even though they wonder in the middle of the night if they are. Unicorns leap. They take calculated risks. They trust themselves. They are confident enough in their own unicorn-ness to know that yes is the answer even when insecurity threatens their confidence. That Unicorn takes the chance; otherwise, That Unicorn knows, she has no chance.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting the corner office or the biggest piece of cake. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to star in the play or be the best at cruise karaoke. There’s nothing wrong with wanting the promotion or being known as the best baker in the neighborhood. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more. It’s not un-unicorn to want more.
It’s also okay not to want more. There’s nothing in the world wrong with the path you choose. Don’t let anyone put a “just” in front of your life. “Oh, you just stay at home with the kids.” “You just do volunteer work, right?” “So, you just freelance?” Those people are speaking to their own insecurities; they define themselves by their work. That’s their stuff, not yours.
That Unicorn knows how much is enough for her: how much work, how much play, how much money. It’s not up to other people to define that for you. Anyone who tries is merely wrangling with their own demons, and no unicorn has time for that. It’s not selfish to want more, and it’s not pitiful to be happy where you are. It’s just sad that we go around judging one another on these make-believe things when there is a perfectly good gauge of unicorns and humans—kindness, especially to the smallest and most powerless among us…
Asking for help is good. Accepting help is divine. There is very little in life where we don’t benefit from asking for help. I think it’s a shame that we often feel that, unless we did it all on our own, it’s not worthy of credit or celebration. When we’re growing up, we hear an awful lot of, “Good for you. You got dressed all by yourself.” “Look at you! You brushed your teeth without any help!” “What a big girl you are—you finished your homework all on your own.” It is a rite of passage to be able to do certain things for ourselves that a healthy, able-bodied child (and later a healthy, able-bodied adult) should be able to do alone. Autonomy is important.
But doing something alone is not more important than the actual doing. If you need help, ask for it. I’m tiny: I could never take luggage on a plane if I didn’t ask for help putting it in the overhead compartment. Heck, I couldn’t even grocery shop alone without some assistance—I wouldn’t be able to get any of the products on my list that reside on the highest shelves. It’s great to be able to do things for yourself, but don’t let it define you.
No unicorn would ever expect people to do things for her. Entitlement is exceptionally unbecoming of a unicorn. But asking politely is not just acceptable, it’s also part of being in community. Most people actually like to help. When we are open to asking for help, we are also providing the opportunity to help. I love to be called on for things I am able to assist with. It allows me to contribute. Asking, accepting, giving, and receiving help are all integral to being part of a community. That Unicorn never forgets that many of the most significant human accomplishments were not done alone.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a significant other or a best friend or a relative. Life’s moments are often better when they are shared. It is almost as if you can experience things more robustly when you experience them with someone else. You have your experience, but you also get to watch the person you are with having the experience. You get to talk about the experience, both in the moment and after, and relive it.
That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with doing things on your own. There is a great deal to be learned when you take things on all by yourself. But with all of life’s highs and lows, sorrows and joys, excitement, and even simplicity, the act of sharing enhances. It can ease the difficult ones as well. Sometimes, it almost feels as if something isn’t real unless you have someone there to witness it with and for you.
Humans are pack animals. They are meant to live in groups. They are intended to care for one another and to be cared for. There are certainly people who thrive alone. But most of us find that sharing life and all of its ups and downs with other people is a happier, more fulfilling, and even healthier way to live. It’s okay to want to interact with people. It’s okay to want to be in the company of others and not interact. And it’s okay to spend time recharging solo. That Unicorn knows what she needs and when she needs it, and she shares herself, her life, and her time accordingly.
Since I was a little girl, my dad has consistently reminded me that “life is not a dress rehearsal.” You only get to do this life-thing once, at least as far as any of us know. Too many of us treat our lives as if we will have another opportunity to do and see and experience the things that we encounter. But this is it, the big show. We don’t get a second chance to say yes instead of no, sit in the front of the roller coaster instead of the back, or say hello instead of sitting alone at that table. That Unicorn knows to open the door—or at least look through the peephole—when opportunity comes knocking.
Change can be frightening and challenging. But that is only because it represents the new and unknown. Sure, you’re comfortable with where you are and who you’re with and what you’re