the worst part about being an adult is being an adult. everyone knows what i’m talking about. we finally get to that pivotal point in our life; that point where we stop buying cigarettes and scratch offs and realize that if our checking account has more than two hundred bucks, we probably forgot to pay a bill. you know what i’m talking about. i started my twenty ninth year by creating this mile long list of all the things i would finally have figured out before a new decade began. wanna know what i discovered?

a bunch of things actually.

{first}• that list of things; literally was a list of things. things that i wanted, no, felt like i needed to figure out. by some kind of deadline. things like figuring out weight loss again, how to budget, how to fold a fitted sheet {who even cares?!}, how to cry silently, how to not be stressed all the time, how to look more awake, how to not look sweaty, how to stop buying cheap phone chargers at five below {because they break in three weeks}, how to blog, how to not annoy people with said blog, how to keep my mouth shut, how to stand up for myself, how to stop saying sorry for things i didn’t do, how to be better, how to stop telling myself i need to be better, how to grieve correctly, how to accept my grieving, how to politely say ‘go fuck yourself’ and most importantly, how to be unapologetically and authentically me. i just named a bajillion things to do in the ten months leading up to my thirtieth birthday. and i would be lying if i told you i haven’t cried over this list over the last few months.

{second}• with the deadline of my birthday just twelve weeks away, i started to realize that i am literally the only person who has a stopwatch going. no one is going to ask for an excel spreadsheet of my accomplishments or give me a cookie for each one i have accomplished. fascinating right? we are our own worst critics but we are also the cause of our own internal stress. which just makes me want to punch myself in the face. because a lot of things on this list are repeat offenders; meaning they have been on the list before. maybe at age fifteen. perhaps last year. they’ve been there before. and if they aren’t repeaters; they might be extremely unrealistic {like the whole fitted sheet thing and not looking sweaty thing}. i know, i know- i should be saying that all of these list items are realistic. but no. that’s what this is about.

being honest with ourselves. being honest about our goals. being real about adulthood.

{third}• a few weeks ago i posted a hilarious meme on social media about being high class broke and like fifty four people were cracking up. in that moment i realized that being an adult isn’t a feeling, it’s an existence. all of us are feeling the same things; not always at the same time or even in the same order. but, we are in it together. so, if you are twenty nine, with like one hundred and eighty bucks to your name and the cooking skills of something on fire and a constant desire to be asleep or on a deserted island- welcome to my hot mess of a life. and if you are killing the adulthood game; whether you are twenty two or forty two, i know you came from the same place i stand now. stop comparing your story to someone else’s. we are all on different chapters and the book of life isn’t always an easy read.

{last}• delete your timeline. shred your list of must haves and must dos. set fire to anything that isn’t changing you into the best version of yourself. throw rocks until what’s overwhelming you about being in this part of adulthood deflates.

this is your story. take your time. let yourself breathe. and most importantly, walk away; no. run away from the list of things you think you have to have done or figured out.

and don’t look back.


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