I’m an adult.  I realize I have been an adult, on paper, and by most societal standards, for a long time.  I’m 33.  I’ll be 34 in May.  I have had my shit together for a very long time: in business, with most of my money, staying sober, easing my way into being kind to myself when nothing around me encourages that, training, evolving into a better version of Alison.  But there are days, when the ease in which I maneuver through the world as a real live adult astound me.  Like this morning, standing in line at the airport, checked in with plenty of time to board, waiting to pay for my $4 17mL bottle of water.  I did it.  I reserved long-term Econo parking.  I checked my bag and got through security.  I’m calm.  I’m poised.  I have some stomach-friendly food to eat and Clorox to spare my fellow passengers from my sickness that lingers.

My house is clean.  My laundry is done.  The trash is empty.  My animals have babysitters and all is well in the house, hours before I even had to go to bed yesterday.  I am an adult.  These are adulty things.  I went to an afternoon movie with my boyfriend and grabbed a reasonable, healthy and respectable dinner afterwards.  Adulting.

My bills are paid.  I own a house.  I pay attention to my bank account.  I plan for the future, and don’t deprive myself in the present.  I treat myself really well, and also take stock of what I really need versus what I want to satisfy the itch in the moment.  The pendulum doesn’t swing so far toward reward or deprivation anymore- it usually sits pretty squarely in the middle.

I’ve arrived to a place that used to feel so far away.  A place that I didn’t think I’d ever arrive because I have the patience of a cheetah staring at its prey many days.  I look like I know what I’m doing.  I take care of my health whether I’m in my home in Columbia, or at a work conference for the week.  I schedule my time so that I maintain some semblance of balance- time with myself, time with God, time for checking in with my tribe while I am away, time with the people I work with and care to build rapport and connection with, time for learning, time for training and walking and of course, sleep.  I read.  I write.  I shower.

This shit seems to have happened overnight, yet it’s been years in the making- time: things I must earn.  I don’t know when I figured out how to get through an airport by myself.  I don’t know when I learned how calming it is to ready your house for your arrival back the following week.  I don’t know when I organized everything so that I had nothing to worry about.  I don’t know when I told people I needed their support while I was away because although I look like I don’t get unraveled very easily when I’m in unfamiliar territory surrounded by entirely too many people, my insides would beckon differently.

It’s pretty cool.  It’s pretty cool to be in a place where I’m wearing compression socks that stick out under my jeans with a man’s jersey for the tailgate party later, just to avoid packing one more outfit, and not let my inner voice take over my care factor of you should have dressed better Alison, people are watching you.  It’s pretty cool to know I can set boundaries and honor my time and my space and myself and not try to please people around me for a few days just to save face.  I’d rather be here, where I am, acutely aware of my humanness and trying to figure it out as I go, yet allow the stuff I’ve already figured out to surface and guide me effortlessly.  It’s pretty cool to genuinely smile and thank the people working for free getting us through the airport lines, and to make small talk with other passengers.  I fucking hate flying, so it eases my nerves and enables me to stand over my feet where God wants me to stand.

I think most of us are probably adults and don’t ever feel like it, maybe don’t even look like it.  I know for me it just happens, and continues to evolve, and keeps me on my toes and so fucking grateful when it occurs to me that I’m doing it, we’re doing it, and we’ll continue to do it until there’s nothing to do anymore.  I hope you join me- pretending our way into adulthood.  It’s blissful some times.

1 thought on “Adulting?”

  1. You’re right… I don’t feel like an adult a lot of times, maybe because I haven’t had a lot of time to adjust or notice it. But now I am doing the things I longed to do as a teen and now I long to do the things I did when I was a teen. I try to remember to be present and enjoy these moments now before they’re gone.

    I’m also wearing compression socks.

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