Adulting is hard.
I mean, I never thought it would be easy.
But it’s hard. Like: I’m just gonna curl up under the covers and pretend the world doesn’t exist, hard.
I feel constantly “on.” As if I let the ball drop, I will really fuck shit up.
I have a laundry list of things I have to remember: did I turn off the shower? Did I lock the door? Did I leave windows open? Is it going to rain? When was the last time I changed the sheets on my bed? That means I should probably change them…Do I have food for the week? What do I want to eat? Shit. Do I have money in my bank account?
This is a constant stream in my head. It doesn’t stop. I lay down at the end of the day and pass out because my brain needs to just not think anymore.
And when I leave the safety of my four walls, I face a whole new list of issues.
Is what I’m wearing ok for work? Does it match? Did I wear the right coat? No. Fuck. I don’t have time to change. Have I gotten my mail in the last few days? Did I pay my credit card bill? Is it Friday yet?
It. Just. Doesn’t. Stop.
And when I do get some time to think about other things, I entertain myself by thinking of the future.
I know how to have a really good time.
I constantly wonder how people my age have kids. I can barely keep plants alive. How do they care for another living thing? This is a legit question I need answered. I need to know how it’s done so that when I graduate to an actual human, I know I won’t damage it.
And how did they manage to get married? Aren’t weddings bitching expensive? What about student loans? Aren’t you drowning like the rest of us? How did you manage to date someone between worrying about eating right and not settling for an apple with peanut butter? And how did you know they were the right person? I thought I knew who I was before I lived on my own. Now I’m learning that I’m way more neurotic than I originally thought.
People who think adulting is all partying and take out need to think again. Life is expensive. Seriously. If my apartment building could figure out how to charge me for the oxygen I breathe, they would. Nothing is free. I study prices and base decisions on what I need, want and feel like, on those prices.
I also find that cheap things are fine. Because they are cheap. And who needs a $12 drink anyway, when a $5 beer will also take the edge off a really long week?
There are days, I won’t lie, when I dream of being 4 years old again. When my biggest worry was…actually, I don’t remember worrying about anything when I was 4. What I remember about being 4 is this: I had fun. I took naps. Things were provided for me. And I didn’t appreciate any of it enough.
Being in college is supposed to prepare you for adulting. But being in college is nothing like adulting. Just like those courses you took in high school don’t actually prepare you for a real college class. (YOU ARE BEING LIED TOO. DO NOT BELIEVE THEM.)
Some of my adult friends (weird thing to say, but it’s true) miss college. And I thought I would too. But I really really do not miss college. I miss certain things about college, like being introduced to new books or lectures. But I also found out that I could learn about those things on my own with the handy tool I like to call Google.
Seriously, Google is the thing that makes me seem as smart and magical as I am.
I figure one day I will get a handle on being an adult. One day I won’t worry about prices and one day I will figure out how budgeting actually works. One day. Not today. No. Today I am going to ignore the fact that I need to do laundry and I’m going to go explore my new city. Because I can make those decisions now. Because I am an adult.
Just trying to make it on her own: