Lately I've been thinking about growing up. And you know what? Sometimes it's hard.
As a little girl I was so anxious to be older. I wanted to wear make-up, shave my legs, and be on my own. I couldn't wait to be older and more mature. I was a dramatic little kid.
Growing up has come naturally to me. I've always been a mature person. In high school my friends liked to say that I was born sixteen, and I think my mother would almost agree with that. I am a naturally an independent person, and my parents instilled in me a healthy sense of responsibility. Transitioning from high school to college was smooth, the only bump being my first night (which I spent alone) in my college apartment. And then I got married, which brings with it a whole new batch of responsibilities that smack more of adulthood than only being in college.
And really, it wasn't until I got engaged that I started realizing how young I am. And the moment after my wedding luncheon ended, I cried, triggered by this immense feeling of "you're not a little kid anymore." I felt so old but still so young, and I wanted to curl up in my mom's arms.
Then life moved on. Back to school, the hustle of exams and research and final papers, and I get swallowed up in the stress and excitement. But lately I've had a lot of free time to think and consider what I want to do after graduation. Graduate school? Work? Something else? A month ago I had a direction and a plan, but I've realized how many possibilities there are, and I begin questioning my original plans. Maybe I want to pursue something else? Maybe I just want to go home, back to Tennessee. When I was in high school, it was mostly Colby, Abby, Leah, and me. Those three are still there while I'm still in Utah, and I can't shake this feeling of wanting to go home to my siblings and parents.
I feel as if I'm walking a fine line between moving forward with my life and going backwards, so I've come to the conclusion that growing up is hard.
