Some bullshit. Sorry, not sorry. It’s a stormy, windy, wavy boat ride when you wanted a clear day type of bullshit. Period. Not only do I not recommend it, but I want some kind of reciprocity for the everyday effort I put into this madness. I don’t necessarily even mean money, but rewards in the form of an endless supply of dark chocolate or someone to rub my feet daily would be nice.
I’m sitting in a bathtub full of Sage and Eucalyptus sea salt particles and hot water. Since it’s the adult thing to do, I’m reminding myself to fish the Sage pieces out when I’m done since they don’t dissolve and will clog the drain. I’m ignoring the fact that there is some weird unidentifiable stain on my white bath pillow that looks like the small fingers of a certain human (knew I should have bought the blue one!). I’m loving every minute of the bath mind you, but it occurs to me that on most days I have to sit a quiet space such as a bath and drink a glass of wine or Dr. Pepper and practice being still in order to feel any semblance of balance or peace. I’m soaking sore muscles, dodging a headache, and for Pete’s sake actually hiding from a nine-year-old and phrases that start with “GiGi can you…?” What manner of heinous fuckery is this? When did I start hiding in my own house?
I distinctly remember spending an inordinate amount of time in the years between 14 and 18-ish thinking that I couldn’t wait to grow up. I had enough life under my belt at that point to know that just graduating high school didn’t make you an adult. Society may have wanted you to be an adult at that age and to up and out of your parents’ house, but nah, that wasn’t it. Even after I turned 17 and joined the military I still felt like there was some part of this adulting that I was missing somewhere. Initially, it was that I thought that I needed to have a house to call home, or a car that was either paid off or nearing completion of payments. A couple of kids and a husband maybe. A job I could alternately love/hate, but that paid the bills and made a way. That is what the examples of adulthood that had been set before me we’re doing or had done. My mother, my aunts, their friends, TV shows. Even being in the military and on my own in wasn’t really it. I could drink and didn’t have a curfew so I was grown, or so I thought but it still didn’t feel like I was “adulting” per se because the military took care of my housing, and if I wanted to eat and didn’t want to pay for it I just went to the mess hall. Adulthood literally snuck up on me experience by experience. Persistent and insidious – if it had a face I’d punch it in the nose.
As I sit here inhaling the scent of eucalyptus and Sage (which is amazing if you’ve never had the combination by the way), I’m literally trying not to think about all of the responsibilities that I have day to day. Work & not bringing the imprint of work home, maintaining a household, maintaining the health and wealth (whatever wealth means when you’re working two jobs) of my household, the physical health of my son and grandson, the mental well-being of all of us, relationships, situationships and…. is that enough commas yet on this sentence? I feel like I’m making my point, but TRUST ME, I could go on. This list doesn’t include the shit that gets tucked under the rug and swept in the corner, but let me not digress into another topic.
I know my ideas about adulting are relative to my upbringing and the lessons that I have or have not learned over my lifetime and is likely different for a person of a different culture and for sure different for a man. I KNEW adulting was going to bring responsibility. But damn, where is the freedom and fun? Maybe just now since I’m in a storm, I can’t see past the thunder. I know I’ve had some fun in my adulthood. One of my favorite memories is literally rocking a boat with 50 people to celebrate my 30th birthday. I can say for certain Covid and this last year of forced isolation while being “essential” has worn me thin. I know also I’m not the only person who is exhausted by it all. We all cope with things in our own way, and look for the light in our own way. How do you cope? The gym? Running? Meditating? (How do y’all sit still???)
It’s really not all bad. The ability to decide I want to do something and then just to get up and go do it, can be priceless. Wine is a gift from the tiny black baby Jesus even if I’m the only one to believe that. Not having really to answer to anyone except myself for my choices is also not a bad deal. I’ve learned to be honest with myself and know when I’m fu&#*ng up. I do try to fix those things. I keep looking for this mystical thing called balance in my adulthood. It supposed to be- in my head at least- this moment or moments where I have it all figured out and everything makes sense. Or at least to have learned the lesson enough to head in the right direction. I’m at peace and little shit like fingerprints on my stuff don’t bother me. I don’t expect balance to be my “normal” everyday state of mind, I’m a bit too real for that, but once a week would be fabulous! Hell, at this point I’d settle for once a month!
Adulting means we’re all in the same storm, if not the same boat (a yacht vs a canoe), at least we can all be afloat together. Your storm may look different. Maybe it was a thunderstorm or maybe it is a full-blown hurricane right now. I know it’s some bullshit. It will pass though. Tell you what; I’ll be your lighthouse in the storm if you’ll be my canoe on the lake. At the very least, take a bath. I’ll send you some sea salt.
Be well. You matter.
So The Redhead Said 