When did life get so complicated? When did I become an adult? Why is that moment so hard to pinpoint? And why, at eleven at night, is this what I'm thinking about? I honestly couldn't tell you... but since my mind is set to go down this thought path tonight, I figured I'd share.
There are times when I feel ashamed about where I am in life. Twenty-three years old, working at a movie theater, one date in my entire life, living with my aunt and my grandma. I get these looks from people I went to school with when I serve them their popcorn... these looks like, "This is the best you could do? How sad." I'm not saying I hate my job, or it has no importance, but I think people expect students to be the ones working there. Sure I'm technically a supervisor, but I usually work more in concession than I do the office.
Then there's the dating thing. "So do you have a boyfriend yet?" I get that question a lot. Why on earth people seem shocked that I don't, that I've never even been kissed, I'm not sure... but they always are. Sometimes, when people find that out about me, I feel like they think there must be something wrong with me. I can assure you there's lots wrong with me, I am a human after all, but as far as I can tell that has nothing to do with my lack of a love life.
I live at home, with family. Despite that it's more common now, I still feel like there's a stigma attached to it. More often than not, I get an "Oh, well that's nice. You aren't going to live there forever though are you?"
I guess if the world was dictating my becoming an adult, I'd be failing big time right now. The world tells us that we become adults when we move out, get a full time job, get our first kiss or even have sex for the first time. According to that report card... Yep. All F's.
And yet, here I am. Twenty-three and an adult. I've been through life experiences some forty year old's have yet to deal with. I've lost a parent. I've helped care for an ailing grandparent. I've been to both weddings and funerals of friends. I am an auntie, not in a traditional sense (yet... give it time Lynds). Honestly, I feel more mature than my fifty year old father. Then again, I've probably been more mature than him since I was three... I think I had a bigger vocabulary than him at that age too. But I digress...
Am I unhappy with my life? If I'm being honest, than sometimes. But I've made the choices that brought me here, and here is exactly where I'm supposed to be. Do I sometimes wish that I could fast forward to a life where I have my own place, purchased with money from selling my books, with a husband who adores me? Yeah, I do. But where would the fun, the adventure, the journey be in that?
I have chosen a profession that has a lot of uncertainty in it. There is no guarantee with writing, and moreover there is usually a lot of rejection, a lot of re-writing, a lot of questions about plot, characters, whether this is what I really want to do. It's not at all easy, it's complicated. More complicated than a 9-5 office job. I don't answer to anyone but myself right now, and quite frankly I don't even know what I expect from myself at this point.
There are times when I think life would be easier if I went out and got that 9-5 job; looked into getting my own place; starting dating anyone who ever asked me, in hopes of finding 'the one'. The grass is greener and all that. As I sit here and contemplate that though, I know that I wouldn't be any happier. All of those changes would come with their own challenges, and I would be trying to force myself into a life that the world thinks I should have.
... What I wouldn't give to be twelve years old again. Doesn't playing in the park on the swings, or trying not to spend all of your allowance on candy and knickknacks from the dollar store, or picking out the softest stuffed animal for your birthday sound divine? And to think, all I wanted back then was to grow up.
Sadly, I'm not twelve, nor am I where I thought I would be by now in life, but I read today that God can exceed all of our biggest wishes, dreams, plans... even if they aren't exactly what we want or expect. They're better, because they're his. So I'll just have to wait to see what he has planned for me. I suppose that means that I'll have to write something other than this before bed... I have to finish my book before he can do anything with it.
I hope this makes sense to all of you... if not, thanks for sticking through til the end of my rambling again. Even if you are still lurking and not chatting, I'm glad you're here.
<3 Kayla
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