Adulting

Last summer I moved out to be on my own. Independence. It is both satisfying but equally terrifying. Living at home with my parents was so easy. Lackadaisical. Almost too effortless. I'd grown used to some comforts and conveniences. But now that I'm so painfully on my own, it's eye-opening.

For instance, toilet paper. I have a heightened sense of paranoia now of running out of toilet paper. Every time I sit on the toilet and glance down at an almost gone roll, I have the mini-est of panic attacks. I have caught myself devising MacGyver-like improvisations of surrounding objects for emergency bathroom tissue. I have not had to use such conjured inventions, which may or may not make due; but no matter how stocked I keep my bathroom tissue, the paranoia just seems to stick.

And then! (NO AND THEN!) There is the issue of lighting. Light bulbs, light bulbs, light bulbs. I can't have enough light bulbs or batteries. Double A's, triple A's, 9 volts, C's, D's. There are batteries on my bookshelf, in the closet, in the miscellaneous kitchen drawer, in my nail design caboodle, and I think my boy might have a secret stash of his own batteries for his toys.

Of course, paying more bills was a bit of a sad moment. Now I'm the one walking through the apartment shouting turn that off! Save energy! Unplug this and that! Save water! Conserve, conserve, conserve! Juggling bills is always fun, yeah? Right. #sarcasm. Growing up or growing grumpy and old?

Also, there aren't any home cooked meals unless I'm cooking them. I miss momma's food. Nice and hot after a long day at work. #spoiled. And to be perfectly honest, I am not the greatest cook. I'm learning bit by bit but man, I miss the days of not having to fret and worry. Taking turns. If I don't cook, ain't nobody eating good!

So, it's been a weirdly rough transition. But what I do love is having my own space and getting excited about my family coming to visit me, which come visit me! But call first, so I can make sure I have toilet paper, food, and light bulbs!

Additionally, I was surprised to discover the silence. When baby boy and puppy boy are both fast asleep and I've tidied up (tried at least), there is a deep and utter silence. Initially, it bothered me. In this kind of silence, you hear your thoughts more clearly. That can be scary. Especially those first few months when I didn't even have T.V. I sat in a barren living room surrounded by the bareness of my new beginning. And it was jarring. Living at my parents, there was always someone to interrupt my thoughts or distract me with trivial things in life (funny YouTube vids!).

But on my own, there is no distraction; there is no preoccupation. There is just the quiet storm sweeping through my mind. I found that my insomnia worsened as this silence took a plague-like grip on me. Until I started to meditate, pray and write again. Now it seems within that foreboding seemingly ominous silence there were words and messages I was afraid to hear.

In short, I've found the voices in my head, screaming stories, adventures and agonies. Which has now lead me to a new endeavor. Free lance writing. After some deep deliberation, I've decided I need to do what I love to do. Starting now. So I've registered on some writing sites, joined a forum, and looked into some writing classes. I'm considering switching my major to English or something to that nature. No more living other people's dreams. Time to live mine because I know I want to do this more than anything else, and I'm pretty good at it....well, maybe not that great BUT I love it! I've always wanted to write since I can remember.

So while I'm worried about toilet paper, the never ending circulation of bills and every day adulting troubles, independence has to taught me to rely on my own judgement. Because I'm a 90's kid and in the 90's it was JUST DO IT, per Nike.