welcome to adulthood

I am a female, almost 22 years old. I’m no longer a girl, well, most of the time anyway, but I am not just quite yet a woman. I am coming in to my own. I am finding out who I am, and who I am going to be. I am searching for meaning in life and for something to give it purpose. I have a lot of interests and talents, but I still don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do.

I am a fifth grade math teacher in the school district that took me from a goofy kindergartener to an even goofier 17 year old with an Associate’s Degree. I have a Bachelor of Science in Psychology because I used to want to learn biotechnology and then my mind decided to study minds. I am getting my master’s in counseling because I want to help people with their problems. But, here’s the catch- I don’t know how to help myself with my problems. I’m Bipolar and even though I was diagnosed at 15 and I didn’t want to accept it or believe it or own it then, I realize now that this is how I’ve been my whole life.

I can be creative sometimes, and I’ve written songs and poems since I was 5. I was into Myspace graphics in my early teen years. I took a drawing class once, and I make jewelry and color in books to relax me.  People tell me I’m smart, and that I should be proud of all that I have accomplished so far, but I feel as if I should have done more by now.

There’s a lot I want in life- cliché things that MOST 20-something ladies want- land, house, career, marriage, family, dogs, debt-be-gone spray, and of course, a fairy god mother who can bippity boppity boo me into my happily ever after. Unfortunately, you can’t always get what you want, or at least not right away.

Some things are starting to fall in to place. I moved in with my boyfriend in October, and we haven’t killed each other yet, so that’s not dreadful. I have a job, and I haven’t been fired, though I have messed up a few times. I have a cat, and when I remember to feed him, he shows me affection. My parents are overly helpful in every way- except for letting me learn to help myself. I can kind of cook, well, you might call it “heating things up”, but at least I’m starting to actually use the oven for more than a storage facility for those pots and pans I got as a graduation present. My apartment has a pool, which might help me to lose some of this extra me stored inside my body birthed by years of medication that sometimes keeps me from being institutionalized.

I want to start a blog. And, so I wrote this. I don’t yet know where this is going, or how it’s going to turn out, but so is life, and it’s worth a try.


Ok, so I’m 23 now. Yeah, it’s been that long already since I started this blog. I really should post more often. I ended a 6 year relationship last year, and life has been pretty crazy since. I’m just doing my best to grow up and become an adult, but hey, aren’t we all. I write songs, poems, and occasionally opinion pieces or short stories, and if you like my writing and can relate, feel free to follow me.