Growing Up Alone

Trying to be a grown-up is a very hard thing to do. “Adulting” is the term we have coined it. Maybe I am just someone who has struggled with this a little more than others. People always tell me I need to settle down and get my shit together. Somewhere in my mind that translates to “give up on your dreams, get a real job, and stop drinking so much”. Clearly, I don’t listen well. Moving to New York was one of the scariest things I have ever done. I actually woke up this morning from a dream and forgot I lived here. And this idea of growing up has not left me yet. It nags at me in my ear like a small gnat who keeps telling me what to do. But what exactly is growing up?

I find it so strange we have people and parents who help guide us through puberty and our first heartbreaks and then throw us from the nest in a fly or die method. Homelessness has now become an irrational fear of mine. All the way from the time we learn to tie our shoes to college tours there is someone leading and guiding us. Well, at least that is what I see in the movies and stuff. But it’s like the second we walk across that stage, whether it be high school or college, we’re just thrown to the wild in our business suits. Why is there no corny after school television special on getting your shit together or an “Adulting for Dummies” book? Do any of us even know what we are doing? Or are we all just winging it as we go (some better than others). I mean I see people my age with babies, legitimate small human beings they are responsible for the rest of their lives! Talk about commitment. But how do we figure all this stuff out?

Right now, I feel like I am at a crossroads. Part of me craves the structure and stability of a nine to five job. (Those are two things I am not sure I have ever really had in my life to be honest). But then part of me fears that comfortability. We only get one life, so why are we all so quick to give up on our dreams? Is it because it’s hard work? Is it because the lack of faith in ourselves; our talents and our skills? Or is it the fear of failure? What if I actually try this thing, this goal that my soul craves, because that is exactly what a dream is, and I fail at it? That would be soul-crushing, literally.

Yet, here I am. In this unfamiliar city all alone. Not sure what I am going to do next or how I am even going to pay rent next month. Just frantically grabbing for things in the air and hoping one sticks. A friend asked me the other day, “Aren’t you scared? You are never scared of anything Lori”. And I laughed out loud, probably harder than I should have. Because I am scared, I am scared shitless. I have diagnosed anxiety disorder; I am literally scared at almost every minute of my day. But there is something else inside me, something that is craving something bigger. And as loud as the anxiety is, this thing is stronger. I wish I could turn it off sometimes, really. I could get a comfortable job and live a normal, maybe happy life. Perhaps I would allow myself to be in an actual relationship for longer than 90 days. To stay in one place with roots instead of blowing with the breeze like a wild flower in a meadow. But every time I try, this hunger inside me makes me restless. And I am off again. All I know is whatever this voice is, it’s gotten me this far. It’s been whispering in the other ear, following me wherever I go. I just hope it knows what it’s doing…