I had a pretty boring week.
Not much to write about. Not much to even talk about.
So, when it came time to write this week’s blog, I was stuck. I feel like I am taking people on my journey but the journey this week was pretty mundane.
I did realize that I haven’t really told you yet why I named this blog “Adulting Reluctantly” and why I really feel like I am in that state of mind every day of my life.
I never felt like I was good at naming things. My creativity just doesn’t blossom when it comes to the idea of names. I am much better at finding things that look good together or designing the layout of a room to maximize space. The visual is mostly where my creativity lives and names just don’t fall into that category.
So, I really tried to let inspiration strike me for this name. I just got still and asked what the name really felt like for me. After a few days, I hit on the idea of being a reluctant adult, and since “adulting” is such a popular word these days, I matched it with reluctantly.
The idea of being a reluctant adult is one that I really embrace. It stems from the contradiction that is my life. I am a fiercely independent woman. I also want to have someone take care of me. There is always a battle between the two, and I have yet to find a balance. To be honest, in my adult life, I have yet to find someone who wants to take care of me. That leaves the independent woman to adult on her own.
I adult well most days. I have my to-do lists, a calendar, and I stay pretty organized. I make it to work each day and do a pretty good job. I manage to clean my house, do laundry and cook for myself. Most days.
When I get reluctant, those days usually don’t go smoothly. I rebel against my systems, often times just sitting and staring at the to-do list like it is a foreign language. Sometimes, I am tired and just don’t want to do anything. Sometimes, my pain gets to me. But, in the end, I know I am just reluctant to be an adult. I miss the days when someone else took care of the bills, and cooked dinner, and did the grocery shopping, and cleaned the house. I miss the days when I could spend a whole weekend playing and not worry about the laundry being done. I miss my carefree days of childhood.
That is really it. I miss some of the carefree days of childhood. And now, I am adulting reluctantly. I do well most days, not so well other days. I believe I am getting better at it each day. And in some ways, I think that my leanings toward minimalism and tiny living are all just ways that I am trying to minimize adulting and be more carefree. And maybe, that is what life is all about for me. Being more carefree.