They must watch their Ps and Qs to not end up in a tabloid or get kicked out of this club or that group. They aren’t their own person. They are beholden to the money or the work. Wealth and celebrity have perks—and some pretty damn good ones for sure—but those things have their burdens as well.
Part of being a unicorn is dealing with what some might consider imperfections. Jobs and families and bodies and relationships that sometimes drive us crazy. And yet, we are who we are. We have made the lives we want to live with what we have been given. That Unicorn does her personal best, no more and no less. That’s different for every unicorn. And the end game isn’t perfection, it’s living honestly.
“Perfect” according to whom? Who gets to decide? And what’s the reward for meeting that arbitrary standard? Neither answer matters, because perfect doesn’t exist. Unless you’re talking about your perfect, in which case, that qualifier is absolutely required. That Unicorn is seeking the life that’s perfect for her. She doesn’t ask anyone’s permission or need anyone’s approval when it comes to what that looks like or how she gets there.
“Perfect” often gets in the way of “pretty darn good.” It keeps us focused on what isn’t real, which forces us to miss what is. Will that more expensive car or bigger house or fancier dress make us that much happier? Maybe for a minute. But in the long run, That Unicorn is so much more about being happy than about battling windmills in the pursuit of the elusive perfect that she can’t be bothered with the little things that are mere distractions along the way.
Since there is no perfect, having that as a goal leads to failure. Unicorns are looking for their perfect. They’re looking for perfectly them. They’re seeking That Unicorn in the mirror, looking back at them with that knowing smile, telling them, “You’re doing great because you’re doing you.”
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
