I've never felt like a grown-up. Not really.
I mean, I am. Clearly I am. I'll be forty years old in 7 months and 9 days (not that I'm counting or anything). I have things like a house and bank accounts and a job. I am responsible, even when I really don't want to be. My sister is going to be a grandmother in a few months and some of my cousins are already grandparents. There's no denying it. We're grown. I am grown.
Inside? I don't feel it.
I mean, I don't want to stay out all night (the bags under my eyes after my usual amount of sleep are atrocious as is). I don't want to be back in college. I don't want to start over again, even if it meant that I would have a chance to right a lot of my wrongs.
I would like to not feel so anxious inside. I would like to not feel so unsure all the time. I would love to be able to make friends easily, like I did as a kid. When it was just as easy as "you ride my bus so we sit together" or "our moms are friends so we spend time together".
The cute boy still doesn't talk to me and it still makes my heart ache. Only now the cute boy is my teenage son, not the one who sat behind me in math class (and judging by his social media pictures and posts, I dodged a huge bullet there). My son, who previously used to tell me everything, way more than I wanted to know sometimes. Not now.
I have to make decisions, hard decisions sometimes, and I don't want to. I want to crawl under the covers and sleep. I want someone else to make the hard choices. I want someone else to do the work travel, the hard meetings, and the college prep.
I just wish things weren't so hard.