After nearly 31 years, I am finally beginning to organize my life.
I have been living in the mess of my own mind for, well, nearly 31 years. Messiness isn't inherently bad. Of course not. In my opinion, messiness is a critical part of creativity. But the kind of mess I'm talking about is the mess which leaves me confused, static, and scattered. I move from one obsession to another in record time. And when I move to the next obsession, I completely abandon the other. This proves to be rather unproductive. I have been chasing my tail, so to speak. Not my actual tail -- I had that surgically removed last week (am I joking?!).
But now I feel like I have a sense of direction. It doesn't feel obsessive this time, either. It feels... rational? Stable? Appropriate? Is this just due to my age? Am I becoming less of a dreamer and more of a doer as I get older? This is either a tragedy or a triumph. Or a little bit of both.
I guess I am learning how to let go of what I can't control. I can at least control that, right? I can control not being in control.
Boring. I am becoming what my 23-year-old self would have described as "boring." I feel a sense of satisfaction when I am able to write out my own check for my own insurance. I look forward to watching the news at night while drinking herbal tea. I have secret fantasies of driving around in a Subaru Outback in Vermont with my dogs while enjoying the fall foliage. I like Eddie Bauer. I consider cutting my hair into a bob because it seems "practical" and "professional." My big splurge at the grocery store last night was sunflower seed butter. I feel rebellious when I listen to classic rock with my windows rolled down. But I very rarely listen to classic rock because I prefer NPR and smooth jazz. I recently bought Preparation H. I look forward to Grape-Nuts. I eat them plain.
I had my fun. I had my reckless, wild, quite regrettable nights. I had my selfish years of discovery and wishy washiness. I checked off virtually every box in the long list of questionable college experiences. I am ready to move on.
There will always be that girl inside of me. There are many girls inside of me. There is the careful, quiet child. There is the free-spirited dreamer. There is the emotionally distraught soul. They are all there and they will never leave. I have begun to make friends with some of them. I have started conversations with them in an attempt to understand what they needed and what they still need today. They aren't enemies. They are my roots.
I will start whatever chapter this is in my life with the knowledge that I am not broken and never was. I am simply a late bloomer. I needed to wander and get lost. I needed to meet myself over and over again. I am still meeting myself. I am constantly surprised.
And I hope I always will be.