Transition

It's very overwhelming. Growing up. Being an adult. Having responsibilities. They try to instill the importance of adulthood on you from the moment they can. I guess they, being an arbitrary word.  The adults in our lives make sure to tell us to focus on childhood and to be patient because you won't stay a kid forever.

(Baby Kelly and Baby cousin Jenny)

Kid Kelly was the shit. I did not have a care in the world. I wanted to get dirty and play catch with my brothers. I wanted nothing more cuddle with my Daddy or go to the store and spend the day with my Momma.  Adult Kelly. Well, she has to worry about bills she can't pay because she can't go to work because of her new medical issues. Or the fact that she can't afford her apartment and doesn't know how to fix it because well, that's life and shit happens.

Every. Single. Day. Adult Kelly? Has to see the most important person in her life struggle just to walk. Imagine that? Just wanting to go for a walk, and not being able to? Not many people can understand what that must be like. I know I certainly can't.  When those arbitrary "they" people say stay a kid just a little bit longer, I wish that my niece, who is now seven but will then be fourteen will listen.  In high school and college, the adults and role models in our lives do their best to prepare us for adulthood. They teach us history, communication and how to properly place a comma so that our resumes will be on par with the rest of the goddamn graduating class. But they will never prepare you for the decisions you're going to make.  The decisions that will dictate the rest of your life.  

If I was smart? I would have listened to almost every single piece of advice my father gave me, and as the story goes - I didn't.  If I did? I wouldn't be in an obscene amount of debt, I wouldn't be trapped in an apartment I can't afford with no amicable way out, I wouldn't be divorced and most of all I wouldn't be spending my days anxiously trying to make it all up to him. To please him and my Mom, to prove that I am an intelligent, independent woman. That I can make good choices and that I'm doing the best I can. So I sit and I wonder how I can make it better. How can I prove to everyone that I can fix it? I was doing great, had a stable job, had a second job, and even lived on my own.  Now? I can barely connect thoughts and am not getting paid because I can't work due to these new, amazing medical talents I've received.  How does one pay for an apartment, or credit cards, or cell phone or food then? I don't. I suck up my pride and admit that I was wrong. That I took on too much, too soon and that I once again, was a fool, for not listening to my father.  

But one day it will work out.  I'll get paid to do what I love. Things have a funny way of working out on their own. Coming in when you least expect them to. Puzzle piece by puzzle piece.