I am an Adult Child

It’s Monday.  It’s a cold, grey, snowy Monday, and it’s just.. well, bleak.
Now, don’t get me wrong.  I love the cold, wintery days in Missouri.  It reminds me of grey England skies, warm drinks, and Christmas in general.  Bleak is beautiful.

Today I want to talk about growing up.  Growing up, unless you are at the tender age of seven, is bleak.  The future, no matter how bright, will always have some bleak spots.  And that, is beautiful.  At this point in my life, I am a twenty-two year old adult/child.  I have terrible anxiety and depression.  I moved away from my home town because I never wanted to be “that girl” stuck living with her parents, making nothing of herself.  I moved only an hour and a half away, which really isn’t far, but I never had time to come home.  I worked.  Constantly.  I never had less than two jobs until 2015.  I was always at work or school and I didn’t have time for friends.

I was miserable.  I barely made it to class on time.  If I was a minute late, I would go into a panic attack and drive home, just to sleep until the next class.  I slept every chance I could get.  My roommate never knew if I was home or at work, because I was always in my room with the door locked.  I spent my money on food and rent, and never had anything saved.  All my resources were drained, including my energy and will to live.  When the store I worked at closed, I moved back in with my parents.  I was embarrassed.  I went to a homecoming game at the high school with my best friend to watch her little brother play, and I was mortified when teacher’s would ask me what I was up to.
“I live with my parents.”
That’s all I could say.  I go to school online, I’m twenty-two, and I live with my parents.

But, you know what?  I’m coming to terms and accepting it.  I wasted so much money and time on being depressed.  I was anxious all the time.  I live with my parents, and I have time to just.. breathe.  I read a book.  I read six books actually.  I’m making 100’s on all my assignments.  I don’t have a job, yet.  I’m trying to transition into who I want to be.  Focusing on school is priority.  Being mentally and physically well is priority.

Living with my parents is actually better than I could ever imagine.  They give me space, but they’re always considerate of what I’m doing.  They make coffee in the morning, for everyone.  I get to cook with them for lunch and dinner, and it’s FUN.  I love cooking, and I actually have time for it now.  I don’t have to spend money on eating out for every meal, because I’m actually at home.  I have a kitchen.  I can cook.

I am happy.

I don’t think many people realize what moving away does to a person.  Some people are successful at it, but never before they’re ready.  I am not ready to be on my own in the big bad world, without friends or family near me.  I just can’t do it.  I am still in college, trying to forge my future, and I’m not ready to be alone.
Will I ever be?  Yes.  But forcing myself to move out before I was truly ready didn’t help.
It terrifies and cripples me.  I fight a never ending battle of mental illness, and some days I feel completely alone.  I became paralyzed in my ways, because it’s all I knew.  I have given up on thinking I am better than everyone because I moved away and lived on my own, because I’m not.
No one is “better” than anyone.  We are all just trying to succeed in a terrible world, where it’s frowned upon for living with your parents past age eighteen.
I am an adult/child, and when I’m ready, I’ll be an adult that can succeed on my own.
Until then, I am not going to stress about things out of my control.  I am happy, and healthy, and I’m going to be okay.

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