Seriously Unserious

*Written as a brief for Champlain College’s magazine, “The Well”, which is created as part of the magazine publishing class over the course of a semester

When did we all drink the Kool-aid about this unspoken need to dim ourselves down as we grew up? Somewhere between childhood and full blown adulthood, we all learned that seriousness is a currency, and gravitas equals competence. We accepted that to be taken seriously, we must become serious people ourselves. We traded finger painting for Powerpoints, recess for networking events, and uproaring belly laughs for a polite little chuckle that doesn’t disrupt the zoom call. While these adult things are necessary parts of our lives, they don’t have to be the end all be all. We can allow some childlike whimsy to color our drab lives once more. 

We’ve all been taught that “making it” requires us to buy into this idea of restraint. We restrain ourselves to be professional, to be socially and romantically palatable, and to appear like any of us know what we are doing. Ironically, the weight of carrying all of the serious faces and measured responses doesn’t make life bigger like we were always told. It makes life isolated and exhausting, leaving you with a life that is barely even yours anymore. 

We have our responsibilities and things to actually take seriously in life, but life is so short, we should enjoy every moment the best we can. Allowing our inner child to take the wheel a lot of the time is so freeing. At a certain point as children, we have no shame or embarrassment. We did what we wanted because it made us happy. We looked at mundane parts of our world like they were magic. Seeing the world through that lens again can bring us back to a more carefree mindset. As kids, when we had a silly little urge to do something, we’d just do it. Now, we know that singing showtunes loudly and offkey in the middle of the supermarket is not the most socially acceptable thing to do anymore, so that’s out of the question for adult whimsy. However, if it's a beautiful spring day in the park and I just want to skip? Nothing wrong or intrusive about that, though most grown adults won’t act on it. But why not? Because it’s silly? Embarrassing? Most people are too busy thinking about themselves and their lives to judge you for doing something fun. Genuine energy in all aspects of life attracts the best kinds of people and opportunities in the long run anyway.

Letting go of preconceived notions of who the world wants you to be can be an incredible weight lifted off your shoulders. A mask you didn’t know you were wearing is removed and you return to yourself. None of this is to say it is an easy feat. It takes hard work and a lot of reconditioning. In the end, it really is worth it though. 

Take some of these practical shifts to try implementing:

  • Start to notice when you are actively censoring childlike joy, then do or say the thing anyway

  • Occasionally seek embarrassment

  • Surround yourself with people who encourage your silliness, not suppress it or insult it.

Life is absurd, short, and precious, yet we spend our days tiptoeing around each other, worried about what someone might think if we order dessert first or admit we've never seen that important film or show genuine excitement about something uncool. Your authenticity is your greatest asset and will eventually be your access card to the life that you actually want. The right people, the right opportunities, the right life are not attracted to your performance. They're attracted to your truth. When you stop trying to be cool or mysterious or whatever version of yourself you think the world wants, you create space for what actually fits. The friends who love your weird laugh. The partner who thinks your quirks are charming, not embarrassing. The work that values your specific brain, not a generic professional shell.

So go ahead: be too enthusiastic. Laugh too loud. Care too much. Dance badly. Admit you don't know. Wear ridiculous things. Skip the power play in favor of honest conversation. The worst that happens? You look silly. The best that happens? You get your life back. A life that’s lighter, brighter, and unmistakably yours.

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