Occasionally I start to panic because I feel like I should have more of my life figured out by now. I’m sure you can relate. Questions start whooshing through your brain at a million miles an hour. Questions like:
“What am I doing with my life?”
“I should have bought a house by now. Why am I still renting?”
“Right, because I can’t afford a house. Is it too late to make a career switch? What careers earn tons of money?”
“Some of my friends are already getting married and buying houses. Those bitches. How did they figure it all out?”
“They’re not bitches. Calm down.”
“I bet being a responsible adult with a husband and a house isn’t even that fun.”
“I’m just not naturally responsible. Some of us are built differently.”
“I am still in my twenties. Maybe I’m not even supposed to be responsible yet.”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
“I wonder how hard it would be to fake my death to dodge my student loan. Then I could afford a house.”
“Would I have to go on the run then? I’m not built for life on the run. Clearly my problem-solving skills are terrible.”
“I should buy some wine. Wine would make this better.”
“Do I have enough money in my account to buy wine?”
But then something beautiful happens. I get ID’d buying wine. And I think to myself Its ok. You’ve got time. You’ve still got time to figure it all out.
And my brain lets me forget I was ever panicking in the first place.
*******
Speaking of getting older, this text conversation between my sister and myself just happened.
I’m rambly even in text form. Also, 40 isn’t old. I was mid-existential crisis, overly defensive, and just trying to make myself feel better about getting nearer to that ever-dreaded thirty. Because I might actually have to grow up then. I CANNOT be held accountable for what I said.
So there’s that. Good job me.
Stories from the far side of normal 