The Beast Of Adulthood

Being an adult is hard. I feel like my responsibilities are a game of whack a mole, always hitting one while three more pop up. Feelings of tension and suspense are held throughout my body because there are so many things that people never talk about and that spring up on me like a creepy mustachioed guy in a dark alley.

As a little girl I knew about things like rent, groceries, car payments and pet expenses, but for some reason no parent ever sits you down and explains that car insurance is different from health insurance is different from renters insurance. Forget about flood insurance, I assume that won’t be explained to me until I’m in the middle of drowning in a super storm. I should invest in some pool floaties.

I work as hard as a person can; I currently have four bar tending jobs, three freelance websites and a varied number of freelance writing gigs. I still perform comedy consistntly but let’s not factor in money from that because even when I do make some it’s not much (I’m in it for the glamor). I pay my bills, on time and in full. My only debt is student loans that don’t add up to even a fraction of what most people have so I don’t complain. I’ve never abused credit cards, gone on expensive vacations or gambled. So how is it possible that I feel like I can never catch up?

I have recently discovered the horror/magic that is Price Right as a way to save money.

• Horror because:

1. The meat and produce is questionable but undeniably cheap
2. The whole building smells like old rice and chicken
3. I’m almost certain the walls are closing in or the stacks of cheap product are moments away from crushing me
4. The people there give Wal-Mart regulars good competition
5. I may have been briefly molested in the bean/canned good aisle

• Magic because:

1. The questionable meat and produce is delicious when hidden in a casserole
2. I got my whole cart-load for $43 dollars (when I normally spend $100)
3. The people there inspire the most incredible characters for my comedy
4. I am forced to remember my own cloth bags which helps save the planet
5. I may have been briefly molested in the bean/canned good aisle

This stuff is never covered in high school.

On top of being responsible for bills I still have to juggle being socially, physically and emotionally healthy when the powers that be are working against me.

Socially it is harder and harder to meet people post-schooling because there aren’t as many new people your age around you. I play on a kickball league, actively participate in local theatre, write and perform with a sketch/improv troupe, go to local political and social events through the magazines and network from behind the bar. Yet somehow in my efforts to find a full-time day job people say, “you have to know someone”. I KNOW EVERYONE… IT ISN’T WORKING. I’m well spoken, I don’t smell like warm car pork, my teeth are always brushed, my clothes are lovely and I don’t speak openly about my frequent gas so what am I missing here?

Physically my body works against me more and more as I age. This is a well known fact but it doesn’t make it any less depressing when it starts happening. Don’t get me wrong, I have a rockin’ bod (am I hip enough to use that term?) but I have been eating a lot of leafy greens and lean proteins lately to keep that true. As a kid I didn’t even know the term, “lean protein” and now I probably say it once a day. Salads are awesome, but less and less so when they invade your subconscious and turn your poo odd colors (odd colors for poo is ANY color that isn’t in the brown family). I still remember what it felt like to run and run all day long in my yard, feeling like I had energy to spare for the monkey bars and tree climbing. Now I have to use sad things like “couch to 5k phone app” which in the first few weeks proves that running for 60 seconds is wretched and later that running for a whole five minutes is doable but still wretched.

Emotionally I’m a mess. My parents really did a number on me; I know this because my therapist feels I should consider two sessions a week instead of just one (he claims it is because I am making so much progress but I know I’m kooky). I also know this because everyone’s parents mess them up somehow, you just don’t feel the major effects until you are stressed about all the aforementioned “adult” things. Once anxiety closes in, the 1992 barbie convertible crash on the stairs becomes the reason why I have unpaid parking tickets.

The thing that scares me the most is that I’m pretty sure I’m doing all this stuff right, and I still feel lost. I constantly meet people who talk to me about the crazy drugs they do, their drinking problem, their rental eviction and I think, “okay, I sleep with a stuffed animal, but I’m alright.”

I like that I am quirky and fun in a lot of the same ways I was when I was a kid and I know that I am responsible enough of the time to be a decent adult. Scratch that, I’m doing well, but in all honesty I’m not ready to just be a grown-up and I am fine if that day never comes. Maybe there is no right way, and the trick to being an adult is letting the entire concept go and living sensibly each moment that I can. In this moment I’m going to eat peanut butter off a knife for dinner with coco puffs for dessert all while on my couch watching Star Trek (Next Generation of course). I think 8-year-old me would be crazy impressed.