25

25 has been a rough year for me. No, I’m not one of those whiny millennial types. I work hard for everything that I have. I pay my own bills. I don’t live in my parents basement (and never had to). In fact, I’ve been mostly happily married for four years, and we have three dogs. Yes, dogs. Not kids. I wish everyone would quit asking us when we are having kids. 

Here’s the thing…I’ve never even felt like a kid myself. I’ve always had to be the responsible one. I had a great childhood and everything, but my parents were young growing up, and I was the oldest kid. I handled shit when they weren’t around. I have always felt like everything was on my shoulders. This is probably why I don’t ask for help, or trust anyone to actually do something when they say they will. I’m kind of a perfectionist. I am also a people pleasing, never say ‘no’ to anyone, drop everything to help you, type A, problem fixer (for everyone but myself). 

I really am, in general, a very responsible adult human being. Except for the fact that I quit my job at an office (that I am still paying 60k in student loans to have) about a year ago to be a nanny. Sadly enough, the career path that I chose caps out at around 40k a year unless I want to go back to school to shell out another 30k  for a masters degree. Then I’d cap out at 50k a year. I mean, obviously the second degree proves that I’m worthy of a promotion (because experience doesn’t count anymore, and neither does hard work and that whole drop everything to help everyone thing). Anyway, the nanny-ing gig pays substantially more, which is crazy because I don’t even need a high school diploma to do that. I’m making more money cleaning a rich dude’s house and taking care of his overactive child all day. Here’s the thing, neither job has been fulfilling. Is a job really supposed to be fulfilling? Are you supposed to fall in love with the career path that you choose and wake up everyday knowing that what you’re doing matters in the world? I don’t have that. I’ve never had that. Should I have that? My husband has that. He was in the military, got injured overseas, and now he gets to start his life at 18 again. He’s in school. He waited. He knows what he wants to be when he grows up. I started at 18. When I was supposed to start adulting. And I have no fucking* clue.

Anyways, lately I’ve been feeling pretty inadequate. My friends all graduated from college, have cool jobs, are getting married, buying houses and having kids. Hell, my little brother, who just graduated from a private (costs more than my parent’s house) college, moved across the country and is having a destination wedding. A fucking destination wedding. I couldn’t even afford a wedding in my parent’s backyard. Am I doing life wrong? How can my “career” as a full time nanny possibly compare to what all of these other people are doing? I didn’t even do the wedding thing right. We got married at the courthouse with 5 people in attendance. 

I feel like I should be making moves. I should be bettering myself. I should loose weight and stop eating food that actually tastes good. I shouldn’t have qualms about attending a wedding that costs as much for the bride and groom to attend as the actual guests. I should be more positive about my life and how great it is. I should trust my husband more. I should be saving for a house. I should be trying to find a “big kid” job. I should do all of these things, and probably a lot of other things. 

Instead, I’m going to start reading the bible. I feel like I’ve lost faith in myself to be the responsible, happy, always down to help everyone person that I was. I need to put my faith in something and someone else, and maybe that something/someone is God. Can’t hurt, right? Maybe with God, 26 won’t be so bad. 

*Yes, you’re going to get some vulgarity here with me. It comes with growing up with a bartender and a construction worker, and being married to an infantryman. Sorry, not sorry. Then again, there could be no one reading this ridiculous journal, but hey it feels good to write it so I’m gonna keep going. 

 

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