I think that I think I need you all to love me.

So I literally spent every day this last weekend just doing assigned reading for my English classes. Life is becoming so monotonous here. I feel as though if I venture off and do something to relax and clear my head (I have done this, yes), it simply results in more anxiety when I make my way back to my school work. Am I being too hard on myself? Or does everybody have this problem?

And when I say anxiety, I don't just mean "Oh man, I have a lot to do, this sucks", I mean wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding, can't go back to sleep, feel like I'm falling apart anxiety. This cannot be normal! I feel like in order to sleep, I have to like sedate myself somehow or something. I've never felt like that before.

I've also encountered another strange part of my psyche that is unfamiliar to me, and that is this need for validation. I've never felt that before; the feeling of needing other people to validate me as a person, whether it be teachers, friends, my boyfriend, or whomever. I just need them to tell me that I'm great and my work is phenomenal. Where did my independence go?! I'm cracking up!

This weekend, I'm off to San Diego to visit my sisters. I've been purposefully working very hard to get ahead so that this weekends shenanigans don't result in extreme anxiety upon my return. I hope it works! I haven't seen my sister Julie since last November, probably the longest stretch of time since my dad passed away, so needless to say, I'm feeling a deep need to reconnect with her, and a need for us all to be reunited. Lisa and Heather are going to meet down there as well, so it should be some great girly chat time. I can't wait.

On a separate topic, I was sitting in a Women's Literature lecture a few days ago on the topic of women's writing styles. The teacher was demonstrating how women's language use often seems to become more docile, or tame when the writer is aware that a man will be reading it, critiquing it, etc, and I suddenly just felt the need to get up and walk out of the room. The explanation just felt so, I don't know, victimizing. I felt as though she was saying that we as women are victims of men's opinions, overbearing natures, or whatever, and I'm just so done with that idea. Often the writers who are trying not to feel self conscious because of a male audience seem to end up lashing out in protest in their writing more than anything else. I don't want to feel like a victim. I do understand the historical nature of this subject, however at the moment I feel too overwhelmed to identify with it. I feel much better stating that I as a woman identify with the fact that I am of equal value to a man, and will therefore write what is in my heart. I don't need to get angry and "in your face" with my writing unless that is actually how I feel.

I also acknowledge that the above is probably just my anxiety talking. BEACH HERE I COME!

Oh this is nothing....

...just the dress of my dreams that I CANNOT AFFORD!

The Road Between Here and There

You're on a long stretch of winding road, in the middle of a valley of red sand. The sky directly above you is a deep blue, and further on toward the horizon it fades gradually to a pale yellow. The mountains, in the light of the setting sun, have developed deep shadows, like wrinkles, making them look their age.

You've driven this stretch of road before, on your way between two cities. You've driven this road so many times, in fact, that to you feel almost as much at home on the road as you do in the municipalities you are driving to or from. You foresee every turn before it comes into view. You know how fast you can make that turn; you are, after all, a fast driver.

You anticipate the change in scenery, as the road goes from forest, to desert, to forest again, and back to desert depending on your destination. You know when to take your eyes off the road to look out the window, in order to catch that sweeping desert view, with the road that goes off into the distance as far as the eye can see. You know when to turn your eyes back again, in order to make the next turn safely.

You've calculated the fifteen minute mark when you've almost reached either city. You know when you'll call your friends and family to tell them you made it safe. You've timed the perfect place to call them on the road if they're supposed to meet you there. You call them at the point when you'll both arrive less than five minutes apart. But this timing differs depending on the person, their habits. You've timed it all perfectly, because you know this road that well. And when you finally arrive in either town, in the forest or the desert, in either state, you immediately feel the need to get on the road again, because the place you've arrived to doesn't provide the relief; doesn't feel like home; doesn't feel complete. You don't really want to be here.

I'll be one hairy old woman someday, and I'll still feel like a kid!

So it's my last week as a 25 year old, and this has got me thinking. Not only about the fact that my "early twenties" are over, but about the meaning of ADULTHOOD. What is this word? I can tell you that when I was looking ahead 5 years ago I was confident I'd have it "figured out" by now. I thought I'd be graduated, doing a job I loved, maybe even engaged or married, and these accomplishments would somehow give me a different perspective on life, and what it means to be happy. And what's the truth? I'm still the same person, in many respects. I eat junk food. I don't know what I want to do with my life. I haven't yet graduated. I'm certainly not engaged. What's new? I drink a lot more coffee. I run a lot more miles every week. And I've developed a new hatred for shaving my legs, which is definitely not going to assist me with the engagement thing!! I certainly don't feel like an adult yet. I feel like a coffee buzzed, road running, hairy legged maniac.

So when will I feel like an adult? When I'm a few years older? A few inches taller? (Hope that doesn't happen!) When I have kids? Or when a certain percentage of my income goes to my mortgage?

I brought the idea of "adulthood" up at dinner a few nights ago, and asked a certain 27 year old whether he considered himself to be an adult yet. When he answered no, I asked, "Why not?" After a slew of I don't knows, he said that to him it is all a matter of perspective, and how one views himself. For him, adulthood has a negative connotation. He said he would like to see himself having a wife, and children, and still feeling like a kid on the inside. He would take care of the responsibility of being an adult: the bills, the hard work, the errands, the family, but he would leave out the "taking himself seriously" part. For him, being an adult has this connotation that somehow it's not ok to have fun anymore. You have to forgo the fun in life and exchange it for self righteousness. How awful is that? No wonder we're all extending our "young" adulthoods. If that's what a real adult life is like, someone else can have it.

So, where does that leave me? Is life going to be this perpetual state of adulthood avoidance? Or is adulthood not the actual issue here? Maybe what I'm really looking for, and what's really lacking in my life is inner clarity. Clarity about what my path is in this life, why I'm here, and how I should be spending my days. Clarity about what will really feed my heart, and my body, and my spirit. That's what this illusive adulthood is to me I think. Just a little understanding. A glimpse of truth. And the only place to look for that? Inside one's heart, where you are given everything you need; where you realize that you aren't in control, and that you don't have the answers. Inside, where the real peace resides. Everything else is just details. See? Nothing to worry about after all.