I always thought that adulthood just happened… that at some point in life, we’d just quietly turn this corner into maturity. We wouldn’t even necessarily realize it at the time. We’d just find a point, in a quiet moment, when we’d look back and realize that we were finally adults. I thought maturity was just this naturally occurring point in life, that it happened gradually and unexpectedly, of its own accord. I never thought it would take work. I didn’t expect to have to put forth any effort whastoever, and I haven’t. It’s unfortunate, really. I look around at my life sometimes and I’m just utterly disappointed with some of the choices I’ve made, for the risks I haven’t taken, for the time I’ve wasted by being a selfish, lazy child trying to masquerade as a person who even remotely has their shit together. My shit is not together. My shit’s a mess.
I don’t think of the word ‘woman’ in regard to myself. The word woman, to me, evokes this vague idea of a polished, sleek person who has a career, a clean house, a goal. Someone who can throw a dinner party or, hell, even just be able to walk in heels or doesn’t feel like a little kid dressing up in their mom’s clothes any time they wear a dress or a suit for an interview.
I want to be that woman, though, or at least be capable of being that woman. I want to stop sitting around waiting to suddenly realize that I’ve somehow magically and lazily morphed into that person. I’m tired of being embarrassed of the way I’m living. I’m just not sure how yet. But I’m working on it.
P.S. Since this ended up being much more serious than I intended to be, here’s a funny and relevant link. One of my favorite parts? “I have to go to the bank? What am I, some sort of wizard?”