Tag Archives: finding yourself

I Accidentally Grew Up

Close your eyes start a journey through a strange new world!
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!

Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar.
And you live as you’ve never lived before.

The Music of the Night – Phantom of the Opera – Andrew Lloyd Webber

I think I accidentally grew up. Damn! It happened when I was voluntarily loading the dish washer. Been telling people for years that the kitchen is a dangerous place that should only be entered by a trained professional. And there I was going against my own advice, again.

It happened suddenly too. Wasn’t pondering any deep thoughts or thinking about what I wanted to write about next, just hanging out being me. It hit like a lightning bolt, “Oh my God, what if this IS me. The me I’ve always been and will be, the core it. I’ve changed, physically grown, aged, changed my mind, then changed it back again. Fallen in love, stomped out of love, believed unbelievable things, told the truth, and lied through my teeth. Been kind to others and said viscous mean things too. Done just about everything that categorizes me as human.

Been waiting 57 years to grow up and dreading it at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, my definition of “grown up” was the stumbling block all along. I always thought growing up meant that you arrived at some specific destination. Now you understand all, you are responsible at all times, always thoughtful and patient. Nothing hurts you anymore. No more saying or doing silly things.

Always thinking of others before one’s self. Never saying “no” to a loved one or a friend. Never choking on a shot of rum and saying yes to a silly request like “hey let’s go to Jamaica, the plane leaves in an hour.” Going to bed early, getting up early. Never staying in bed or your pajamas all day. Keeping an immaculate house.  Never licking the drips off the side of your coffee cup or laughing out loud in public for no good reason. Don’t ask for more, don’t complain, smug in the confidence that you have done all seen all and now there’s nothing left to do but sit around and grow moss on your chin.

Good God! No wonder I was afraid to grow up. As of today, I don’t believe in the growing up theory. I think it’s more of a process of growing into your self . We are all born with tiny little bodies and enormous potential. Then we spend our childhoods learning what not to do. Our physical bodies reach adult size and we proceed to spend decades trying to fit into various molds and labels. I’m a butcher, a baker, a candle stick maker.  I’m a slob, a heathen, crazy, inventive, artistic, boring, obnoxious.  Bleh! Enough with the labels already.

Figuring out that I belong in the skin I’m in is better than Christmas morning. Better than buying a new dress and a new laptop in the same day! But it’s sort of scary too. Every time I stretch or take a deep breath I’m afraid a piece of me is going to fall off like something bursting out of a shell. So what? If it falls off then it didn’t belong there anyway. It was something I tried to patch on to my psyche, thinking that it belonged there. Adult people think this way, mature people do that. Geez, I think I’ll spend an entire day writing down rules so that I can scratch a line through all of them one by one. Then throw a party.

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