I think something I've come to realise in the past year os that in order to find happiness, I've had to remind myself of things I loved as a kid because it brings back a juicy, gummy and delicious piece of nostalgia that is incredibly addictive. It's untainted, it's a reminder of a time fuelled by discovery, innocence, purpose, liking what I wanted and authentically falling in love with parts of the world.
It makes me think this is one reason people must love and want kids. I think of what that potential 'unconditional' love and dependance could have felt like. Is it like realising small parts of your own self are in a mini skin sack that shares half your dna? Seems pretty amazing.
I keep constantly repeating myself; going through old messages between friends, exes and lovers I can see a distinct pattern in my own behaviour that I'm not impressed with. Learning is becoming more a necessity to get myself out of the house and not spiral into a pit of despair, because unlike my parents, who were married, mortgaged, 3 kids deep and running a business, I am somehow at 25 year old dyke working in digital media, who ate fruity-bix in bed for dinner, playing sims and listening to old Lily Allen songs to remind myself of being 16 again.
So when the fuck and how does one grow up? Because while that description sounded cute and edgy for a character in a shitty tumblr piece of fiction written by a 14 year old, that is actually me right now!? Atrocious. What is the right way to do this thing? Because all I know is what I don't want and I'm far too afraid to grasp what I 'could' want and I'm far too impulsive and irrational to make sound life decisions. Hell, I can't even sort my finances out, sleep properly or deal with being out in public 75% of the time.
In a game of 'who is going to _______ first' I would be most likely to die. Let's put bets on how it might happen and when so someone can profit off it. It'd make for a good speech at my funeral!
So far, adulting has been great for learning, understanding, analysing and deep reflection. So why does it seem like I've taken steps backwards? And the only way to yank myself out of that direction are things like birds or the colour orange. It's as if all this extra 'great' stuff is really part of the problem, so much concern with these little tiny meanings in what is essentially little sparkles of time that are wasted, when you could just strip back and simplify. But then you consider the work that'll be and that just makes me want to order uber eats and sad wank myself to sleep.
Moral of the story? Point of the blog? I guess that adulthood = depression = fear to do anything = anxiety of slowly failing = adulthood. That's my equation, but too be honest I've never been too hot with math.
Book yourself into something expensive if you can afford it, prepay it so you have to go and get out there. It's my current solution and is a good start to stripping back.