The Age of Worry

How could I possibly want something so badly and fear it at the same time?? Take INDEPENDENCE, for example. There is nothing I want more at this point than to be able to proudly stand on my own two feet, live a life completely my own, and not have to take crap from anyone because I am at no one’s mercy. The most crucial question, however, is: Can I really handle the independence I crave so much? Well, in about two months, when I leave the comfort of my parents’ home and move into my own place like the adult I should have been long ago, I’m going to find out. I get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

For the past few weeks, I have been combing through apartment postings on the Internet, making all sorts of lists (to-dos and such), calculating future expenses, and all that nasty yet necessary ‘grown-up stuff’. Ugh! Wouldn’t life be so much easier if it were just like what we see in the movies where people can jump from one place to another on a whim? But NO, in real life, we need to consider a hundred different things; i.e., squeezing into a pittance of a budget, safety, accessibility, pet-friendliness, and the list just goes on and on and on.

The anxiety and stress are really starting to get to me; I can tell because I’ve been having dreams about the ‘big move’. Some nights I barely get any sleep. There are those (brief) moments, though, when I manage to convince myself that things will work out — I can do this! But then the cynic in me jolts me back to reality and all my fears kick in again.

Although the idea of flying solo for the first time ever does excite me, I still can’t help but worry. So maybe I am (somewhat of) an adult after all. Because isn’t that what adults do — worry?

And now I leave you with this quote from one of my favorite movies, Love, Rosie, because my mind is too occupied at the moment to think of a better way of ending this post.

“It’s funny because when you’re a child, you believe you can be anything you want to be, go wherever you want to go. There’s no limit to what you can dream. You expect the unexpected, you believe in magic, in fairy tales, and in possibilities. Then you grow older and that innocence is shattered and somewhere along the way the reality of life gets in the way and you’re hit by the realization that you can’t be all you wanted to be, you just might have to settle for a little bit less.

Or perhaps a variation of what you once wanted.

Why do we stop believing in ourselves? Why do we let facts and figures and anything but dreams rule our lives?” — Cecilia Ahern, Where Rainbows End



I met someone. And by ‘met’, I mean I stumbled upon this person’s blog. I have only caught glimpses of this person once or twice at our congregation’s weekly meetings and we have not actually been introduced. Nonetheless, I feel as though, through the hours and hours I’ve spent immersed in her blog, I know her (yes, HER — this is not a love story after all). I am well aware that what most people choose to share on the Internet represents only a tiny fraction of who they really are — while some do not even at all — and that it would take much more than reading someone’s online journal to really know them. Still, I can’t help but admire this rather talented young lady. In fact, she inspired me to start blogging again. I find myself in awe of her tenacity to follow her passions and to act on them; I envy her for her ferocity to live a FULL life, a life of PURPOSE.

Now, here I am, questioning what I have been doing with my life for the past 9 years since I graduated from college — it’s been 9 years?! I am rattled by what little I have accomplished and shaken by the hard-hitting truth that I have pretty much, if not completely, wasted (most of) my youth.

I know it’s not fair to compare one’s life with someone else’s, but it really makes me wonder — if my background were anything like hers, would I be living as boldly as she is? Would I not have the same fears and reservations I have? Maybe. Or, maybe I’m just making up excuses now for living a substandard life.

I dream of a life fueled by passion and yet I am clueless as to what exactly I am passionate about. As pathetic as this may sound, I’m not specially good at anything, really. And, sadly, I do not have the financial freedom to fully explore what I may (or may not) be good at. I hope to someday find the courage to break through the confines of my present circumstances instead of letting them hold me back. Or, that somehow, despite the inconvenience of it all, I would be able to find… well, MYSELF, more than anything.

My biggest fear is that one day, I would look in the mirror and resent the person staring back at me for having lived a life completely stripped of conviction.

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