growing up

Does it ever surprise you that you are, in fact, an adult?

Legally, I've been one for over ten years now. I pay my bills. I will soon own my car. I clean and maintain my apartment. I have a steady and fulfilling job. I manage to feed myself and keep a cat alive. I regularly interact with friends.

These are, I think, fairly good indicators of my status as Adult.

Emotionally, however, there are days I wonder about that status. December and the first part of January included quite a few of those days. In the last quarter of 2012, a few things happened that made me a bit shaky. I'd come up for air, thinking that I would float again, only to be dragged back down, fighting for each breath. Then Newtown happened and I thought, "Screw it. A nervous breakdown seems like a good freakin' idea right now."

Panic. Fear. Sadness.

It wasn't how I wanted to hit my twenty-ninth birthday or the beginning of a new year.

But it's what I got. And perhaps one of the main indicators of maturity is figuring out how to deal with what your handed rather than wishing something else were happening. Acceptance isn't a fun process, but it's probably a healthier one.

As things have finally calmed down, I have been taking pleasure in the return of balance. This morning, for example, I woke up at 5:30 to get some work done. I did laundry, made tea, ate healthy food, snuggled with the kitten, curled up on the couch with my laptop, and edited my heart out.

People often speak of living in the present. Right now is all that matters, they say. If you have anxiety, however, that's not really how the brain works. Anxiety pushes you forward into the catastrophic ways everything can go wrong in the future. Your present is then overshadowed by the need to prepare for those hypothetical calamities that will, undoubtedly, happen. Balance isn't exactly possible when one is preparing for the worst.

But as I have begun to float again, I'm realizing that maybe there is wisdom in focusing on the here-and-now. Because at this moment, in this corner of the world, everything is just as it needs to be.

Except, perhaps, that the teacup needs to be refilled.