We have a closing date set for the 31st!
Whenever I am happy--and I am very, very happy right now, I know I am (I must be.)--I am simultaneously wracked with anxiety. I am trying to learn how to just be happy, but it's an awful lot of work. Last night I came to the sort-of-earth-shaking epiphany that I am responsible for my own choices--for all of them; that part of being a grownup means not blaming my childhood or exes or anything but me for my neuroses and issues; that the liberating and terrifying truth is that I am in charge of my own life.
At the moment, I am aware of the liberating part of this truth, but definitely experiencing only the terrifying part.
There are so many wonderful things about being a grownup. I can live with my beautiful Jam Guy. We are buying a home. We can have children of our own and be the real grownups (gulp). I can wear what I want, earn a paycheck, go to the grocery store with it and leave with a shopping cart full of Apple Jacks if I want. (Do they still make Apple Jacks?) I can leave the house whenever I want; I can close doors when I want. As I told Jam Guy on our drive up through California a few weeks ago, I have never, ever been this free in my life.
But some days, there's nothing like being a grownup to make you want to get fetal again. Or at least hide out in a pillow fort.
(image from www.nonchalance.com/blog)
My friend Monisha told me last night that at 30, I am winding up my Saturn return, which she says is a time of coming back to yourself and a time of maturation. That resonated with me. This right-now-period in my life marks for me a time of moving into happiness and groundedness in a real way. In spite of--no, probably because of--this, I am getting shook up every day by bad memories, weird flaring-ups of neuroses, anxiety, crazies. I am hiking barefoot over some scary-ass territory on my way to this home that Jam Guy and I are trying to build together. And I have to build something for myself, and I am still waiting and working to learn what that thing is.