I am totally mismatched this morning. I have on bright red sweat pants, a purple and black work out tank, and a light green hoodie pullover. Not stylin’ too much today.

I won’t be leaving the house like this, mind you. This is just what was available in my morning workout clothes drawer. Since the piles and piles of laundry didn’t get done this weekend, I’m limited in the clothes left in my drawer. I knew I wouldn’t be seen in these clothes, so I pulled them on without shame. Drew made a few funny remarks, but I know he loves me unconditionally, so I don’t mind being mismatched around him. I don’t have to always be put together perfectly for him.

Sometimes I think I’m having one of those not put together so perfectly days, even if I’m wearing a perfectly matched and well ironed outfit. Some days I feel a little tender and raw on the inside, and even though I’m trying to be professional, I swear everyone can see through my facade. Some days I just can’t hold together that fake facade, and everyone can tell what a mess I am.

I hate that the world often requires us to be so put together. There’s no chance for an off day in the professional world. If I’ve had a not so great night of sleep I have to suck it up and get through the day, and do my job well. Honestly, on those not great sleep days, I want nothing more than to slouch languidly on the couch in my mismatched sweats. I don’t want to be out in the world. Leave me alone and let me be not okay.

I had one of those days last Friday. I was feeling the farthest from rested that I think I can get, and had very little energy to devote to my job. I sent up a desperate prayer, and God met me and got me through the day, although not without hardship and drama. I remained professional and got through the day, only to collapse into tears in my car. I’m a girl. When I get overwhelmed, I cry.

Unfortunately, my day was not over. I still had to head to church to lead worship. I allowed myself a few more moments of blubbering, and then composed myself. Or so I thought.

I headed into church, confident that I had enough professionalism left in me to get through this last part of my day. I didn’t. All it took was one person to look at my red eyes and ask if I had allergies. Simple question, but it cracked me yet again. I began crying again; this time I was unable to stop. I HATE crying in front of people when there’s seemingly no reason for it. Fortunately, I was in a very safe place. No one judged me. They just hugged me and encouraged me. And then made me go home. They insisted that they would handle everything and that worship would be fine.

I am thankful that I do have people in my life that don’t mind if I’m mismatched. It’s a relief to not have to be put together all the time.