Am I There Yet?: The Loop-de-loop, Zigzagging Journey to Adulthood

by Mari Andrew

“If you stumble,” she said, “that’s a great sign. It means you found your edge. You tried something that didn’t work, and now you know.”

I was anxious to feel more settled, to have it figured out, to stop learning lessons and just reap the benefits of lessons learned. The most helpful way to get over this anxiety was to think about my life as a collection of seasons, rather than as individual steps. It’s tempting at this age to carry around a mental checklist of Things an Adult Should Have and a monthly report card with markings for each Life Category.

hearing someone say “I’m hurting” calls for immediate action. It’s a lot easier to tell someone, “Things will get better,” “Look on the bright side,” or “Everything happens for a reason!,” rather than “I can’t imagine what you’re going through—I’m so sorry.”

Just like seasons of the year, seasons of life don’t have a finish line.

It’s really easy to fall in love with someone about whom you know nothing.

Friday nights at my weekday bedtime, having mimosa

I always loved my dad dearly. But our relationship became strained when I was in my early twenties for no reason clear to either of us, so I looked for evidence in my past. I must have done something hurtful but I couldn’t think of anything specific. I wondered if there was anything to apologize to him for,

This is so close to hit home

If asked, “How did you get the motivation to do all that?,” I answer, “Oh, easy: just have a parent die.” Eek. But it’s true.

SAMEEEEEE

I am fully aware that my world could end tomorrow, which leaves me invigorated, but also more anxious.

Mourning has become so hopelessly intertwined with my daily activities that I can’t separate one from the other. Mortality awareness, increased sensitivity, nighttime anxiety, and a desperate need to create and produce: these are what I have.

But the truth of grief involves stepping into the deepest, darkest, monster-infested zone and acknowledging, “This place is the absolute pits, and you might be here a long time.” It takes a very brave person to step into the lightless murk of true empathy, and I’m fortunate to have a few of these brave souls in my life.

Acceptance is not a relief; it’s the realization that you will always carry grief with you.

“It never passed,” I snapped at him. “You told me it would, but it didn’t, and it never will.”

A worrisome thought slipped into my inner monologue: What if there was no point? What if I was just an ordinary person who got a dose of bad luck in a certain period in my life? What if it there was no universe-orchestrated happy ending, but just a continuation of some bad days and some good days? What if there were just seasons, and no eternal spring?

Even people who eschew religion may instead put their faith in astrology or the universe, attempting to make sense of rejection as something that “wasn’t meant to be,” and something that paves the way for “something better to take its place.” It’s a comforting thought until you get tied up in the logic that the universe’s plan has failed plenty of people.

You can be stylish without being fashionable. Once you have a good grasp on your personal style, you can take it to any area of your life.