Sometimes, I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that I’m 36, I own a home, I go to work on time like a responsible adult, pay my bills, somehow manage to feed myself and keep Lucy alive and well in the process.  Mind-blowing.

When I was younger, the transition from child to adult terrified me.  Seriously.  I didn’t understand how people did it.  And I knew they did it ~ obviously.  But it seemed like an impossible task.  I didn’t ever want to not be able to go home, and curl up on my parent’s couch, and eat dinner and be okay.

I stumbled a lot in my twenties.  Probably because a part of me really didn’t understand how to transition into being an adult (case in point: I had jobs, I earned money, but I think my dad always paid my bills. So my understanding of earning in order to support myself –very lacking).  I didn’t really understand money and responsibility until it was a little bit too late.

And now, with my mistakes burned into my subconscious, I don’t remember how to not be an adult.  How to not worry about bills, and mortgages and laundry and my job.  I think I’ve forgotten -a little bit – how to dream.  How to take risks.

And this, I believe, is why the sadness comes.

I feel trapped by obligations.  Trapped by fear.  Unable to jump off a cliff and believe I will fly.

Adulting is hard work.  And sometimes, not very rewarding work.  There’s a lot of guilt in adulthood ~ things you wouldn’t have thought twice about at age thirteen.  There are consequences that mummy & daddy can’t shield you from.  There are challenges — like MS — that come raging out of nowhere to drag you down and drown you.

I actually think about this stuff a lot.

Maybe because John and I finally own a home.  And being an adult feels really real.  For six years, we lived in a one bedroom apartment, perpetually being treated like children.  And then suddenly, we were equal to all our neighbors.  We had furniture in every room. We bought area rugs (I mean … it doesn’t get much more adult than area rugs).

When I sit in my office, tapping away on my computer, and I can hear the ambient neighborhood sounds of car engines, and children playing, and lawn mowers ~ it feels so immediate.  And I also think about how much longer it took John and I to get here than most people.

I guess we just needed time to figure out what we wanted.  Maybe other people knew much more quickly than we did.  But we both enjoyed late nights in restaurants, college friends and irresponsibility more than most.  I suppose.

I can say that it feels good to be where we are.  Even if work sucks the life out of me sometimes, and MS makes everything feel like moving under water.  I like that we have our own space, and our pantry is filled with food we like.  That we get to make the choices.  We are in charge.  We worked hard to get here, saving and paying debt.  We worked hard and we were able to make choices we were happy with.  And that makes me happy.

Maybe it took us longer to get to grips with adulting.  But we’ve done it.  And it isn’t all bad.