Growing UP.

(A conversation between my roommate and her 10-year-old brother)

"Harrison what do you wanna be when you grow up?"

"An inventor"

"I wanna invent four wheelers that are peddle bikes. And a unicycle that's a motorcycle..."

She laughed.

"Aub, what do you wanna be when you grow up?"

In the quiet of the car she paused. 

The thought stopped her in her tracks. 

With a voice like an orphaned child longing for a home, she whispered,

".... I dont know yet. And I'm almost grown up."

***************************************************************

It's one of those days.

All I want is this.

... plus a book. Some sweats (preferably tucked into my high socks lets be honest). A blanket. And time. However much time I want. For as many days as I want. 

Just. Because. I. Can.

But the reality is... I don't have that. As much as I want to, I don't. 

Instead, I have books. And papers. And group projects. And group papers. And grocery lists. And tests. And errands..... the list could go on forever. Literally. 

And honestly....

.... I .... have a confession.

I just can't do it all. All the time. Perfectly.

I can't always be composed.
Stay calm.
Be happy.
Not stress.
Quit worrying.
And feel at ease.

I can't extend those due dates.
I can't get a 90 on those tests.
I can't get those group members to change.
I can't make dinner, do the dishes, host family night, clean my room, and write two papers.

I just can't do it.


No matter how hard I try.

I like to pretend I can. Pretend I have it all under control.

But the truth is, I don't. I can't. And I don't think I ever will.

I'm a perfectionist. I know that. And that I always have been and... although I hate to admit it ... probably always will be. Ironic right?

Even as a little girl I had to have things just right. Whether it was the tightness of my shoe laces (both had to be equally tight...), the width of the roll on my socks (you all know the drill- yank those things as high as they can go on your tiny little calf and then, ever so carefully, begin the roll that ends at the ankle bone...), or the nail polish on my nails... it had to be perfect. All of it.

And sometimes that makes it hard. Because I try to do too much. I want it all to be just right. And I overwork myself trying to do it.

But really, don't we all? I can't be the only one. Perfectionists or not, we are all busy. Aren't there times we all overload our plates and overeat at dinner (and I'm not just talking Thanksgiving- America as a whole does that..)? We plan too much in too little time. Promise too much but do too little.

And boy am I feelin' the wrath of that today.

So really, let's take a breather.

All of us. Together.

Because none of us can do any of this, alone. We can't live a day in this life without each other. So let's use that. Not abuse it. Let's call a friend just to listen to their crazy day. Let's call our mom, dad, cousin, best friend, or roommate just so they can listen to ours.

"You don't have to prove anything to anyone Rach. It's okay to have a hard day." 

Those words will stick with me forever. 

We all need those moments.
Those moments where we let our walls down. Admit we aren't okay. Admit we can't do it all. We need those moments to de-stress, organize, and regroup. Not to feel bad, embarrassed, or ashamed. Because we all feel the exact same way. We are all human. We have weaknesses. We have heartbreaks. We have stressful days and we have pain.

So let's face them together. Because sometimes when we fall, it takes someone else's help to pull us back up onto our feet.

Let's remember what it felt like believing being "grown-up" meant inventing 4 wheeler peddle bikes and motorized unicycles. And that sometimes it's okay not to have answers or know where exactly our next step is going to be. Because when all is said and done, when all the papers are written, all the graduation practices are over, all the diapers are changed, and all the dishes are done- we will be able to say we have indeed, grown up.

Because growing up isn't about knowing where we'll do our internship, what job we'll get after graduation, or how many children we've been able to raise. It is through the stress, the hurt, the waiting, the exhaustion, the joys, the triumphs, the successes; it is through every single one of those small, sacred moments that we will indeed be able to say, we have truly grown up.

So to Peter Pan and The Lost Boys,
could it really be so bad to grow up?

From my fireplace to yours,
R.