Coming of Age

There are times when I can really relate to my two older daughters. It wasn't so long ago when they were getting ready to move out of the house. In many ways, they'd do really smart things ... like get their own car insurance and make their own doctor appointments. Figure out healthy things to eat and buy real dishes, pots and pans. Learn to ask adults other than only their parents for advice, seek them as mentors.

And in the next minute, they'd drive me crazy with their childish behavior. Like living in a room so messy that you couldn't walk from the door to the bed without tripping over clothes, shoes and books. Or like putting on a pouty face and whining about some little easy-to-do-and-won't-even-take-15-minute-task like cleaning the bathroom and mopping the floor.

They wanted to be grown up. Wanted to be seen as the young adults they were. Wanted the privileges that adulthood provides. At the same time, they were scared of what becoming an adult implies. Like trusting their own judgments. Like not having Mom and Dad to lean on. Like not getting to act like a child.

There are times when I feel stuck in the exact same place. For example, what is it about me and cell phones? Why am I so darn resistant to just learning to USE the things, even if I don't want to own one? Or ... traveling alone. Why do I make such a big deal about it? I always feel like I want someone to hold my hand as I walk through the process instead of just jumping in and trying it. You know. Being an adult about it.

I feel stuck between wanting to be the healthy, wealthy and wise mature woman ... and the adolescent girl not quite ready to take on grown-up choices and responsibilities.

The weird thing is, I am incredibly responsible. Have been for a long, long time. I take responsibility for outcomes that I'm not even responsible for. Or the actions of people that I'm not responsible for. Methinks this is skewed.

For me, perhaps what I can own is more of an emotional immaturity. Or ... that bit where I just don't quite believe in my own abilities. My ability to cope. To know what to do in sticky situations. That bit of me that doesn't quite believe I have the internal fortitude to figure situations out as they unfold, when they deviate from Plan A.

So we come back again to Plan B. Learning to go with the flow.
:: sigh ::
I surely do struggle with these life lessons.

:: snort ::
For example, look at this blog post! How much more adolescent angst can I write?!

:: heavy sigh ::
So on I trod. Considering. Trying stuff. Learning.
Scratching my way into maturity.

All the while, keeping a fun-loving nature.

'Tis a test.