When I Grow Up

Y’all, I’m a grown woman. I’m 30 years old. I have a great job at an even greater company. I have two college degrees.

And I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

I think that’s ok, don’t you? Part of the exercise of writing this little blog is to give myself practice in being ok with uncertainty, after all.

Writing anything and putting it on the internet is an act in uncertainty. Who knows what anyone’s going to think of it, much less what anyone’s going to think of you for writing it. Yet I need the compulsion to write anyway.

If anything, my recent dearth of posts was me being distinctly uncomfortable with uncertainty… for a while.

Because it’s good to think about things, write a little bit about them, and put it out there for the universe to see. Especially when you’re unsure.

It’s a good thing to live a little bit, experience the joy and pain that life has to offer, and not always feel the pressure for it to be a meaningful step on your life’s journey to X. It’s a perfectly wonderful thing to go to work, enjoy your cats, take your time making some tea, put away dishes that your husband washed, and then have a nice beer on the weekends. Or while finishing up work.

It’s a wonderful thing to do what you can to get real meaning out of life rather than worry about whether or not your five-year-plan is on track.

And you know what? If you know what you want to be “when you grow up,” I think that’s just lovely. So long as whatever it is makes you happy, secure, and gives you enough time to go make some tea (or enjoy a beer), I’m glad.

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